


this one's not pretend

by acastle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They look at each other, and Harry glances at his watch, letting out a chuckle as he says, “12:14.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Niall laughs, has to, and Harry joins him. “Fuck me. Happy Christmas, Mick.”</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas, Keith,” Harry says to him easily, pretentious California arse that he is using ‘Merry’ instead of ‘Happy’, and they eat the desserts in small bites between mindless chatter, fighting over the sorbet with fork tussles and it feels like home, even if he’s seven hours away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Christmas, 2019, stuck in a posh Italian hotel because of the weather. Many mistakes are made.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this one's not pretend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SolariaLunar21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolariaLunar21/gifts).



> I've strayed a bit from the original prompt. I hope you like it anyway, and I hope it lives up to at least a bit of your expectations. I worked very hard on this, and I hope it suffices. Also serves as my reaction to yachtgate and nelena.
> 
> For the sake of this timeline, ignore Niall going to Louis' NYE party. That never happened, in this version of 2015.
> 
> I'm not very sure of the ending either, but. Anyway. this was much more dramatic than it needed to be. I'm sorry.

Niall Horan is twenty-six, and he’s become quite content with his life. Never thought that he would end up this way, walking through the cold streets of London with Selena Gomez’s arm looped through his, barely listening as she tells him about what she’s planning to get for Taylor this Christmas. But he’s not really complaining, not at all. He’d just thought that he might end up. Differently.

“She’s always going on and on about how she’s much more for sentimentality and all that,” Selena’s saying, walking perfectly in-step with him. Been in perfect sync for a long time, the two of them, but Niall feels like it’s more of a mechanical thing, not as natural as he’d like, but. He loves her, loves her so. “But I know, like, if I manage to get Cara and Hailee to agree, it’s literally just the two of them left, then we could finally go on that girls’ trip to Bali, like she’d always wanted-”

“Wait,” he says slowly, lets her lean on him a bit for warmth as he pauses, gets his thoughts together. “Was that for this year?”

“I have tickets booked for the twenty-first, so. I’d hope so,” she replies, glances up at him. Her eyes are bright today, her lips the slightest bit matte from the nude lipstick he’d given her a few weeks back. Thought it would suit her, and he was right. “Did you forget?”

“No, I just thought. I could have sworn that was for next year,” Niall sighs, his glasses fogging up a bit. “I’m sorry, so does that mean we’re not having New Year’s together?”

“Ni,” she forces them to a stop, steps in front of him. Her hands are a little cold on his neck, but he forces himself not to shiver. “Ni, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you thought-”

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, but. As much as he might not want to admit it, Selena’s been his one constant since the break. Since he and the lads had tried for another album, another tour, only for it to be a farewell to their days of being in a band. She’s been there, loving him through most of it, and he knows that must not have been the easiest thing to do. They’d spent every Christmas and New Year together since 2015. Be hard to picture the hols without her. “It’s fine.”

“Niall.”

“Sel, love, it’s fine,” he says, gives her a small smile and gives her a short, brief kiss. “I’ll be fine. Just thought we’d go on a trip, this year. Remembered when you said a few months back you wanted to go skiing? Got you tickets to Italy. Cortina d’Ampezzo, some of the best slopes in the world, I thought we could go.”

“Niall, I’m so sorry,” she says, and she rubs his cheeks, tries to get him a bit warmer. People walk around them, some looking a bit short with them being in the way, in the middle of a busy street with the rush of last minute gift shopping around them, some pausing and glancing back when they realize who they are. It happens a lot, but this time, they’re not disturbed.

“It’s not your fault, I didn’t ask if you were busy,” Niall says with a shrug, but it makes him a little uncomfortable. “It’s fine, I get it. You’d been spending too much time away from her anyway, always with me. I’m so boring, don’t know why you put up with it-”

“If there’s anything I disagree with more,” she says, trying to sound stern, but she gives it up when he leans down and offers a kiss, which she returns easily. Like clockwork.

.

“Which one?” Selena’s asking him, waving two swimsuits in front of him. “I like how the white one looks really good in pools, but the blue one is more comfortable.”

“Bring both,” Niall tells her, a little bored as he had tried to help her pack, but she sat him down early on when he folded one of her dresses the wrong way. He knows how to pack, he’s a pro at it, can fit a month’s worth of shit into one carry-on if so needed. Just not for women, apparently. He’s seething, a bit. “I think you’ll need more, anyway.”

“Hmm, yeah, you’re right,” she agrees, goes to pack them in her luggage, open on the floor and almost full. “More than two weeks planned for this, maybe I should get more-”

“More than - Sel, when exactly are you getting back?” Niall asks her, a little alarmed now. “Is there enough to do in Bali for a trip that long? Thought it was just spas and infinity pools over there.”

“Oh my god, Niall,” she shakes her head, “I thought you were the traveled one, babe. There’s so much to do there, yoga, temples, elephants, scuba diving-”

“I’ll be completely honest, I stopped listening at ‘yoga’,” he says frankly, and he hardly reacts when she throws one of her bras at him playfully. He catches it deftly, and grins when she rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m getting back on the fifth,” she answers, and he sighs a bit. “A few days after you, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, thinking of what he’s going to pack already though he’s not due to leave until the twenty-third. “I get back on the third.”

“So you’re really going?” she asks him, frowning a bit as she stands back up from where she had been organizing her makeup on the bed. “Going to go on a ski trip alone?”

“Don’t wanna waste the ticket,” he tells her, and he sighs again when he sees her begin to tear up the slightest bit. “No, Sel, come here-”

He pulls her to him, makes her sit on his lap and kisses her cheek sweetly. “Don’t feel bad about it love, I’ll be fine. Would be nice to have a trip by myself, just this once.”

“Niall, fuck, I didn’t - why are you going alone?” she stammers through her words, and he feels a bit more worse off. Doesn’t want her to feel bad. “Didn’t you ask your family? The boys?”

“You know them,” he shrugs, patting at her thigh helplessly. “Ma and Da, Greg and everyone, they’ve got their own plans. Been planning to go to that Derby match in Dublin, been excited for it for months. I can’t just make them give that up.”

“Then what about-”

“Louis has his own family to tend to,” Niall answers quietly, thinking of Louis and how he’s tried _so_ hard lately. With his baby who’s getting so so so big, with Briana and trying to be friendly with her, with Danielle and pretending their love isn’t complicated, with his siblings and parents and. Louis is doing his best, and Niall won’t add to that. And Liam, “And Liam is having his first Christmas back with Sophia. They’re going to try to make it really last, this time.”

He doesn’t mention Harry, because Harry had been the only one to not reply to his messages. Niall let it be, didn’t push because he knows him, knows how he can get. It’s not that they don’t talk anymore, they’re still friendly, he loves Harry. It’s just, with him being in London and Ireland most of the time and New York when he’s seeing Selena, and Harry being in LA, always in LA, they never see each other anymore, which is fine, but also not. It hurts much more than he’d thought, not seeing Harry, not seeing his best friend, for the better part of a year.

He tries, though. And Harry’s never given him at least half the effort in turn. That one time at the end of 2015, it had sealed their fates, and Niall couldn’t afford to look back.

She must understand what the pause in his words entail, because she just brings his face up to hers, kisses him quietly, wetly. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone for the holidays.”

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her. Tries smiling again, hopes it doesn’t look too forced. “Snow, mountains, and dangerous winter sports with high chances of injury. Perfect for me, yeah?”

She snorts, and he sneaks a small kiss to her chest, somewhere over where her heart should be, lips just skimming lightly over the swell of her breast, and it’s comfortable. Has always been comfortable, and calm, when he’s with her.

Can’t ever find it in himself to be brave enough to call it home, because it doesn’t quite feel that way, not yet. But he’s happy enough. Has been happy enough, and he tells himself it’s a good life.

.

He sees her off, goes as far as he’s allowed and kisses her in plain view in the airport, four in the morning and not many people around, so he’s not too bothered. Pretends he doesn’t feel the many girls of the squad around them watching their goodbye, endeared and cooing, pretends he doesn’t know that Taylor and Calvin having their own little moment a little off to the side. She looks so at home with him, gathered in his arms and they look like they belong, the two of them.

He remembers 2012, and fights off unpleasant memories and scars that took so much time to heal. Not even necessarily his, but back then. Any individual member’s pain was shared among the five of them. Niall felt devastated by association. Now, he sees more of Taylor than he does Harry. A strange turn of events.

“I’ll miss you,” Selena’s mumbling against his lips as the group around them starts moving.

“I’ll miss you,” he repeats, and he means it. Kisses her again quickly, holds her hand tightly. “Don’t worry about me, yeah? Have fun, tell me when you get in, okay?”

“Okay, you do the same,” she says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll be seeing you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you,” he replies, and they separate, he hands her the luggage and her purse and she’s getting one last kiss in before she’s being dragged off by her best friend. He waves, and they both wave back.

It feels slightly odd as he watches them disappear from view. He can’t quite place the feeling, can’t understand why his heart slows down, why suddenly he feels much more centered.

.

He packs within a few hours the day after she leaves. Quickly, efficiently, neatly, orderly. Not a toothbrush, gadget, boxer out of place, because he _is_ a pro at this. So good that everyone else had always ended up borrowing from him, at one point or another. To the point that someone had taken his toothbrush and he’d had to borrow Harry’s, a few times.

He orders a cab and leaves his home, and the routine of going through security and checking in and everything in the airport feels like coming home, of sorts. Direct flight to Florence, a little more than two hours, where he gets off and there’s a car waiting to take him to the mountains, a long four and a half hours of more traveling. Then he’s there.

It’s much colder than he had expected, and he fights to not let his chattering teeth show as he pulls out his coat from his carry-on, and he looks around at the grounds. White everywhere, and the hotel is beautiful, roofs capped in snow and lights making the whole thing looks majestic, mountains in plain view and it’s gorgeous. Makes him feel slightly better about being alone.

“Welcome to the Cristallo Hotel,” the receptionist greets him with a smile, and he smiles back.

“Niall Horan, I reserved a suite for two,” he says, and he’s been using his real name for bookings and hotels for quite some time now. No one really disturbs him, and it’s been a few years since some had last followed him around. He’s not so afraid to use it anymore.

She looks up his name on the computer, and smiles again, saying, “Suite king valley view, booked until January 2, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, just take the elevator on the left and Gio will assist with your bags,” she says, handing him a keycard and there’s this grinning porter next to him within a few seconds, carrying his luggage.

His room is large, walls a warm red that, upon closer view, are intricately painted with floral patterns. The bed is large, much larger than needed even if Selena could have come, there’s a sofa and a writing desk and a walk-in closet and a balcony as well as a  huge bathroom with a Jacuzzi and all of a sudden he feels very lonely again, once Gio leaves him after he tips him generously.

His clothes don’t even fill up half of the closet space, and he feels too small. Like the space he occupies isn’t all that significant in the confines of the room, and he huffs out in annoyance, in resignation and a little bit in sadness.

He walks out to the balcony, takes in his view. Incredible, trees still miraculously green on the foreground, straddling the mountains, majestic and sharp and covered in white. It's all beautiful, and it amplifies his loneliness. Wishes he wasn't here in his own.

‘ _Just got in. The hotel’s pretty posh. Think you’d love it,_ ’ he types out on his phone to send to Selena. Pauses, then adds, ‘ _Miss you. See you in a few weeks._ ’

He sends it with another sigh, then turns the heater up, and climbs into bed, not bothering with dinner, and goes to sleep with plans of checking out the slopes tomorrow, hoping he feels slightly less alone in the morning.

.

“Good morning, Mr. Horan,” the server greets him as he wheels in a cart, piles with plates with metal domes over them. “Hope the weather isn’t treating you too poorly.”

“I’d want to lie and tell you I’ve seen worse, but,” Niall replies, staring out of the closed balcony door, where a snowstorm is raging, strong flurries of white looking suddenly dangerous, menacing and he has to sigh. A bit in frustration, a bit in everything else, because he’d gone all the way to fucking Italy, almost eight hours of traveling, just to go to the Dolomites and ski and whatever, but seems like he can’t do that now. Woke up twenty minutes ago to his balcony door banging open and sheets of snow coming in and making the room unbearably cold, called up room service to have it cleaned up and for breakfast. “What did they say about the weather?”

“Storm isn’t slowing down, will probably be like this for several days,” the server answers him with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Well, there goes any plans of physical activity,” he says, taking refuge on one of the plushy chairs by the table. The attendant starts lifting off the dome covers off of the plates, and a wonderful, warm aroma fills the air as he reveals French toast, freshly cut fruit, croissants, eggs, bacon and sausages, and waffles. Niall feels slightly better at the sight of it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” he answers, smiling graciously when Niall tips him with a few bills, and as he’s rolling the cart out of the room, he says to him, “The hotel has many amenities for you to enjoy while waiting out the storm, Mr. Horan. Indoor pools, spa, gym. If you’d like any recommendations or need any assistance, the concierge would be more than happy to assist.”

“Noted, thank you,” he says again with a smile, already grabbing onto a croissant and taking a bite out of it.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he greets, and Niall almost drops his bread. He hadn’t even realized.

“You too,” he says, knowing his smile comes out as more of a grimace, and he’s left alone with too much food. He sighs again, and finishes his croissant. Pours himself some coffee and starts on the French toast, thinking of what he’s going to do next.

.

Niall finds himself in the gym, which is nice enough, he figures. Well-equipped and with a great view of the mountains, he’s sure, if the storm wasn’t so bad that all he could see was white out the windows.

He works on his legs, been doing his workout and exercises since he’d stopped seeing Mark regularly. His knee’s been better as of late, had a bit of a scare a year or so back, had it operated on again. Selena had flown in from New York to stay with him in Denver, and the lads all visited him. Louis had brought his baby, Liam had brought his parents, Harry had brought himself. It was fine, now, as he stretched and worked to get his foot to touch his bum. Start out small, he’d always been told.

He’s on the treadmill when someone finally disturbs him.

“Niall?” he hears, and he sighs internally. Gradually slows down the machine until he can walk off and turn it off. Prepares his smile, and turns around to greet what he suspects to be a fan.

His smile falters when he sees that it’s Harry Styles who’s recognized him, giving him already, toothy smile. The kind that brings his dimples out.

“Harry,” he breathes out once he's let it set in, but his heart is racing, for some reason, because Harry's right in front of him, and he grins, finally, coming forward and wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Harry returns it easily, laughing a bit as if he can't believe it, and Niall knows the feeling. Can hardly believe it himself.

“Shit, Haz,” he says, his words leaving him as he embraces him. “The fuck. Of all the places to see each other.”

“I know,” Harry says as they pull apart, and he's still got the smile on his face. Niall’s missed him so, so much. Only realizes now just how much. Feels a bit like he’s come home, or something to that effect. “Had to travel all this way just to see your face. Been going around the hotel for an hour looking for you.”

“Fuck, why are you here?” Niall's asking, and the gym’s not particularly full, but there've been a few glances their way, curious looks, and he steers them away from prying eyes, brings them to the locker room.

“I've had this trip booked for months, I didn't tell you when you asked me because I thought it would be a good surprise,” Harry answers him, still smiling, and they're settling into one of the benches, facing each other. Niall can't stop grinning.

“So you were planning to spend the hols here?” he asks, and Harry kind of shrugs.

“Nick told me about this place last year, said I should go for Christmas before I start filming, clear my head a bit before everything,” he says, and Niall nods. Isn't unaware of the fact that Harry's been in talks for a movie for a long time, and he's finally agreed to it. When he had described it to the boys a few months ago as a “ _Bit of a new take on The Parent Trap, where the dad’s the British one,_ ” Louis had called it slander and insulting, Liam didn't say anything and drank his tea, but they could all tell he was laughing by the way his shoulders shook. Niall, though, he'd been happy for Harry. Laughed a bit, right in his face, but ultimately pulled him in for a hug and told him to invite him to the premiere. And for Shay Mitchell’s number, as a joke, because she was a different level of _woah_. Selena had agreed.

“So you're here with him?” Niall asks, but is a bit surprised when Harry shakes his head.

“No, I’m on my own. Was planning to bring this girl I was seeing back when I’d booked it, but we broke up like a little after, like, months ago. Decided to go on my own,” he explains, looking quite proud of himself, for some reason. Niall knows he’s talking about Kendall, but he doesn’t ask for details. He’d told himself he’d be past this. “Been planning to do a bit of soul searching.”

“In the mountains with piles of snow surrounding you, when you’ve got shit blood circulation,” Niall deadpans, and Harry just laughs. “Twat. You live in LA, of all the places for you to bloody _‘soul search’-_ ”

“I was planning to prepare for my role,” Harry says, “loving dad slash photographer with a love for pasta.”

“I know for a fact that you still don’t eat gluten, you idiot,” Niall mutters, pulling at Harry’s curls, and he gets a laugh in turn.

.

After returning briefly to their respective rooms to freshen up, they spend the rest of the day catching up in the Gazebo Restaurant in the hotel. The panoramic windows don’t offer much of a view at the moment, the winds still too strong, but it’s quiet enough, peaceful enough, and they talk for hours. Niall picks at Harry’s fish and lobster with white truffle, Harry picks at Niall’s steak and veal, and they drink a bottle and a half of wine between the two of them.

They talk about everything. They talk about Harry and his life in LA, writing for other artists and how his family is doing. How he’s thinking of adopting a dog, how he’s been taking low key trips to different parts of the world to take pictures. How he fell in love with this little island called Sabtang, and how he’s sure that some rock formations there look too much like dinosaurs. Is convinced that the rocks just formed around the dinosaurs as time went by. Niall humors him, smiles. Talks about how finally it was Nancy Meyers herself who convinced him to try acting, how she wanted to maybe reinvent The Parent Trap for a second time. Make it an unconventional young couple, interracial, teen parents who just weren’t ready for life. It sounds horrible on paper, but when Harry had read the script that she had written, he said he was hooked. Cried at the end, like Niall thought he might have. He’s excited, scared, terrified, but raring to work again.

He doesn’t talk any girlfriends, any lovers. Doesn’t talk about Kendall, says her name once and that’s it. Niall doesn’t know why, but he hopes, a little cruelly, that it’s because she never mattered, wasn’t really someone that Harry worked to keep in his life at all, in the grand scheme of things. Mentions some names occasionally, some that Niall recognizes, many others he doesn’t. But nothing significant that Harry wants to talk about at length, and Niall thinks he understands.

Niall talks about his life flitting between London and Ireland, sometimes New York. He’s been writing a lot, sometimes for other people, sometimes for himself. Admits nervously that he’s been recording, and Harry smiles, looks so proud and excited for him. It makes him feel instantly better about his prospects. Says he’s been keeping quiet mostly, just trying to slow down. Babysits Theo a lot, and he likes how he feels needed at home, especially since Denise and Greg are having another baby soon. Bobby’s still working down at the butcher’s, and they go fishing sometimes. Accompanies Niall as he golfs. Has meals with his mother every other day. He’s been quiet, and maybe he’s boring. Harry hangs on to every word, though. Makes him feel like quiet and boring isn’t so bad, with the way he grins and smiles at his stories.

He talks about Selena a lot less than he thought he would. Doesn’t know why. It's not like they do anything to attract attention, that’s never been the way they are. They’re content and happy with each other, it’s enough for them just to be together. They don’t have even a third of the drama she and Justin ever had, and it’s a good thing, that they’re calm and stable, not to say that he doesn’t feel excited or anything to be with her. But that’s it. He goes to New York when he’s free to visit her, she goes to London or Ireland when she can. They have dates, they spend time with Theo or Gracie and Tori, they spend time with each other’s families. They’re fine. They’re okay. But it’s not much to talk about.

Niall’s on his sixth glass of wine, Harry’s on his seventh, but they’re not drunk, just this side of tipsy, sharing desserts of posh tiramisu and fancy cheesecake with meringue, and they’ve been in the restaurant for close to seven hours when Harry asks him the big one, something that Niall knows has been on a lot of people’s minds for a long time.

”Why aren’t you two married?” he asks Niall, leaning forward as he pokes at the cheesecake, trying to scoop up as much raspberry ice cream and blueberries with his fork. “You’ve been together - how long, now?”

“Four years,” Niall answers him, and it hits him then how long he’s known her. How long he’s been with her.

“So why haven’t you proposed?” Harry asks, looking at him. His morsel of cake and ice cream is ignored. “I know there’s no rush, but. Like, I don’t know. You’ve been together for a long time and everyone thinks you two seem to fit so well. Why don’t you propose to her?”

Niall doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know how to respond, because even though he’s aware a lot of people had thought it, he still hadn’t prepared an answer.

“We’re still young,” he says, shrugging a bit. Doesn’t want to admit the truth of the matter. He’s not ready, and he doesn’t really want to. He loves her, he does. Has loved her for so long. But he’s never pictured his life with her, never thought of a future with her. It’s cruel, because he knows it would hurt her to know, and he’d never want to cause her any pain. But it is the truth. “We just need more time, maybe. Figure out where we are in life and when we can move forward,” he adds on, leaving it vague and open-ended.

Harry must read the shift in his position, the change in his tone, knows he’s upset and confused, because he drops it, pours him another glass, and says quietly, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Niall says readily, easily. He doesn’t touch the glass, slides his hand into Harry’s offered palm instead. “Christ. Didn’t realize how hard this would be, moving on.”

“I never really wanted to,” Harry admits to him, laughing a little but there’s no humor in it. “Didn’t want to have to move on from us. From you. You’re my best friend. It was so hard, having to be away from you all and seeing you maybe three times a year.”

“Didn’t think we’d end up lamenting our past just a year after the band ended,” Niall says, laughs humorlessly as well. “Stuck in a snobby hotel in Italy with a snowstorm raging outside, drinking wine. We’re too young for this.”

“Always thought we’d be touring until we were grandpas,” Harry tells him, grips his hand. “Making music until we were old and nobody really cared but we wouldn’t care that they didn’t care. Like Bowie, or the Stones. You’d be the Keith to my Mick.”

“Niall to your Harry,” he replies, and it comes out much softer than he’d intended. The room is spinning a bit, and he has to admit to himself that he’s drunker than he’d thought.

“That’s nice, right?” Harry says, smiling dopily.

“What about Liam and Lou, then?”

“What?” Harry asks, confused, and Niall sighs. Can’t help but grin a bit, because that’s the exact way he’d been expecting Harry to react. Just like him.

He’d thought about it, too much over the past year. He’d be more than happy, to be old in a band nobody really cared about, with Harry. It always sounded so appealing to him. Always thought about making music with him, playing guitar as he flopped around onstage. Louis and Liam, as much as he loves them, they’d never really fit into that vision, and they know it, and they’re not all that bothered, truthfully. _“It’d be exhausting, being that energetic all the time_ ,” Louis had said when Niall had confessed his desires to be like a Rolling Stone, his tone playful but words truthful. Niall knows he can hear the unsaid part of it, of him wanting to do it with Harry. And.

He’s pictured a future with Harry Styles. Unconventional, out of the box, ridiculous and just so. Them. The realization hits him so suddenly, and Niall is not surprised in the least. Feels like he’s been put to right, but he tries to look nonchalant as Harry holds his hand. Doesn’t know how to feel, what to say.

“Excuse me,” one of the waiters approaches their table with a warm smile on his face. “Compliments of the hotel. Merry Christmas,” and he’s setting down plates of chocolate cake topped with lemon sorbet and an apple cake with truffles before leaving them to distribute more dessert to the two other tables still in the restaurant.

They look at each other, and Harry glances at his watch, letting out a chuckle as he says, “12:14.”

“Well,” Niall laughs, has to, and Harry joins him. “Fuck me. Happy Christmas, Mick.”

“Merry Christmas, Keith,” Harry says to him easily, pretentious California arse that he is using ‘Merry’ instead of ‘Happy’, and they eat the desserts in small bites between mindless chatter, fighting over the sorbet with fork tussles and it feels like home, even if he’s seven hours away.

They get up after paying their tab, last ones in the room, laughing and walking comfortably side by side, and they naturally fall in step, in sync with one another. Feels like before.

“Got to call Da and Theo, Sel too,” Niall says as they near the exit, but he feels Harry pause next to him. He pauses looks around curiously, but Harry’s just smirking a little shaking his head, and nods up to above the doorway. Niall looks to where he gestures, and laughs when he sees a sprig of mistletoe above the doorway.

“Don’t want to kiss me, then?” Niall says as he shrugs, taking a few steps forward until he’s right under it. “Don’t have to-”

Before he can finish his snark, Harry holds his face in his hands and plants a short, but hard, wet kiss on his mouth. Niall stares after him, shocked, as Harry just cackles as he walks towards the elevators.

It's a testament to how solid and close they are when it's not in the least bit awkward in the lift. Harry hums along to a tune, Niall starts when he realizes it’s one of his, first one he'd written once he'd settled in London properly after the last show, that he eventually sold to Che, one of Grimmy’s friends from The X-Factor. Became quite a big thing to hear words he’d written sung by someone else, for it to have done so incredibly well and everyone seemed to love it. Feels even better when Harry’s mindlessly humming the chorus, like he’s not even really conscious about it. It's comfortable, the thing is. Doesn't feel forced when he allows Harry took hold his hand playfully, doesn't feel any need to fill any silence. It's just. Them.

“Shit first kiss,” he mutters as they're nearing his floor, and Harry's laughing, before reeling him in and placing another kiss on his lips. Unhurried, soft, but also searching and he's licking into his mouth before Niall even knows what's happening. He lets it happen, though. Can't quite complain when Harry smiles and hum against his mouth, pulls him even closer just to grab at his arse and grope it playfully.

“Twat,” he says, laughing, and Harry just grins at him as he gets off the lift. Turns to wave and tell him, “Good night, Haz. Happy Christmas.”

“You too, Nialler,” and it's been so long since he's heard that nickname come from Harry's mouth. It settles into his bones, and he smiles one last time, before the doors close and Harry's going up to his room.

.

He hardly gets four hours of sleep in before he’s being woken up by the incessant knocking on his door. He yells out in frustration, because he’s cold and tired and there’s a bleeding snowstorm outside his windows, but he gets up anyway, trudges towards the door, already knowing who’s on the other side. Can tell by the rhythm of the knocking, can never forget it.

“I know it’s four in the morning and you hate being woken up,” Harry launches right into it once the door is open, walking in unceremoniously and definitely ignoring the glare Niall sends him, plopping right down on the sofa and laying his laptop on the coffee table, “but I just realized. It’s Christmas.”

“Yes, yeah, amazing job, Haz,” Niall mutters, going off in the direction of the bed to lie back down but Harry pulls him to the couch before he has a chance, and he lands ungracefully and groans out again. “The fuck you want?”

“It’s Christmas,” Harry says as if he weren’t interrupted, and he pulls out a memory stick from his pocket. Niall registers, barely, that he’s just got these short boxers on, the fancy underwear with the pockets, and a white tank top, something Niall’s sure he hasn’t worn since 2013, as if he were on the bloody Caribbean. Certainly modest in Harry terms. “And I’ve always made a point to watch ‘Love Actually’ once the clock strikes twelve.”

“Then why am I involved in this?” Niall asks, resigned to the fact that Harry’s going to have his way.

“Well, I’m a few hours late but I don’t think it’s too late to watch it,” Harry answers, plugging in the stick to the port on the side of the television set. “And, I’ve never watched it alone. Always watch it with mum and Gemma or Nick or-”

“Yeah, alright, I get your point,” he says, already grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. Stands to stuff the entire contents of the mini-bar into a basket and settles back down next to Harry, who’s smiling and resting his back on the arm of the couch, stretching until his feet are on Niall’s lap. He shoves them off, but Harry just puts them back up again, and he eventually gives up and tears the bag of Ruffles open.

They watch the movie in relative silence. They’ve watched it together enough times to know what Harry thinks, how he feels about the different stories in the film, so Harry doesn’t voice it out anymore like he used to years ago. He just reacts in certain ways to particular parts. Sighs longingly at Bill Nighy, because he’ll never admit it, but Niall knows that Harry’s got a thing for him, a great adoration of some sort that seems to be reserved for men who are beyond the age of sixty, especially when he’s playing an imaginary rockstar. Cries a bit when Liam Neeson and his stepson are onscreen. Cries a lot when Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman’s marriage deteriorates before their eyes.

He’s oddly quiet when it comes to Juliet and Mark, though. He always, always, tears up when Keira Knightley gets her Christmas cue cards, but now. He just watches quietly, stops fidgeting around and sits still, his feet still on Niall’s lap.

“What I would give to have something like that,” Harry muses. Niall looks over to him, sees him watching Mark and Juliet kiss innocently.

“What? Someone to tell you you're perfect and that they love you?” he asks, if just to get Harry to smile cheekily. “Won't be hard to do that, pet-”

“You know it's different if they really mean it,” he says, “you know what I mean. When they know you and love you for the person you reveal yourself to be, to them, your true self. Not just the person that everyone else knows.”

He's rambling, and it might not make sense to someone else. But Niall's not someone else; he knows him, and he understands. Doesn’t make fun of him.

“Not just that though,” Harry’s still speaking, and they’re not really paying attention to the movie anymore as it’s drawing to a close. “Like. I wish I had that kind of courage. To declare my love for someone. Even if I know there’s not any hope for me, for my love to be returned.”

His voice is quiet, soft, and Niall hangs on to every word. He doesn’t quite know what to say, how to react, so he squeezes at Harry’s calf, hopes it comforts him somewhat.

Harry stares at him as he does so, still quiet, and the silence gets to Niall. Makes him uncomfortable and strange. Like there’s something unsaid and the air is charged with something he can’t place.

The movie’s just ended, but he makes no move to the TV set off. Harry doesn’t move either. They end up staring at each other rather than the blank screen, and.

Harry moves up the couch, straddles him resolutely with a determined look on his face, settling down on his lap and pulling his face towards him, kissing him hard.

“Harry,” he tries to push him away, but Harry holds him close, leaves kisses everywhere on his face, on his neck. Skims his lips over the line of his jaw. “Harry. No.”

“Niall.”

“Harry, what are you doing,” he asks, grips his hips, where his fingers give in slightly, skin soft on his love handles. Harry pauses, stops moving, before he pulls back slightly and looks right into his eyes.

“This is me, declaring.”

Niall can’t quite speak. “Harry, you know I’ve got someone waiting for me-”

“She was never the only one who’d waited for you,” Harry cuts him off, staring at him hard. Niall’s heart starts to beat at an unnaturally quick pace. Feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest. “I know you’re not stupid. I know you could tell I’ve been attracted to you for a long time. You’re not just a friend to me.”

He’s not wrong. But Niall knows it’s just the way Harry is. Just seems to be so affectionate, loves everyone and can very well be generous with his affection, and everybody is more than happy to return it. He knows that he’s been on the receiving end, touches and looks others might chalk off to their closeness and friendship, but he knows Harry enough to know it’s not the case.

Niall knows he’s not a slag. Doesn’t just sleep with anyone or throw around his love for just anyone to claim, but he can’t deny that Harry, though seemingly perpetually single, is hardly ever without someone to sleep next to at night. He’d been a little bit like that himself, a long time ago. But now he’s not.

“Haz-”

“Don’t make it a big deal, love,” he's shrugging. “I'm attracted to you. I know you're attracted to me. We owe it to ourselves, yeah, Niall?”

“Harry. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know you don’t,” he says, his large hands unexpectedly soft on Niall’s face, “and I know I might regret doing this. But I know I’ll regret it so much more if I don’t try. At least, just for as long as you’re here. Please. Please, let me be yours, just for this week.”

Niall stares at him, looks at him for a long, long while, and every voice in his head is telling be him to say no. Thinks about his amazing, patient, supportive girlfriend, how much he loves her. Almost pushes Harry off of his lap, sets his thoughts on her. But, he sees the look on Harry's face. Quiet, waiting, hopeful. And he decides, decides to give him this.

“You're so fucking dramatic,” he says by way of his reply, and Harry’s kissing him again, slipping his tongue into Niall’s mouth. “Came out of a fucking soap opera, with the way you talk.”

He doesn't say anything, just slips his hands under Niall's shirt and presses his palm on his stomach, up his chest, until he eventually makes him take it off completely. Removes his own top, and shuffles closer to Niall, grabbing at his shoulders and arms and he'd always had a feeling, a thought that Harry would be so tactile, so touchy when being intimate.

“I can't promise you anything,” he's telling him, doing his best to kiss back and keep on touching him.

“Just this week, as long as you're here,” Harry's telling him, drawing back again just to look at him.

“You tell me if it gets too much, okay? If it’s not fun anymore, or-”

“I will.”

“I don't want you hurt.”

“Now who's the dramatic one?” Harry's snorting, then he's trailing kisses down his neck, his chest, down his torso until he’s on his knees, tapping at Niall’s hip to get him to raise his bum off the cushions for a second, and pulls down his pants. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just me. Me and you until we leave, okay?”

“But you just said-”

“I know what I said. I know how I feel about you. But I know you too, and I can tell you’re stressing out about it. Don’t. I’ll be fine. She’ll be. Well. _We’ll_ be okay. Now let me suck you off.”

Niall’s not quite hard, but he knows he’s not far from it, not when Harry’s looking up at him with his fucking eyes, dark with want and that bloody smirk on his goddamn face. Harry grasps his cock, squeezing at the base and tugging him off, slowly, sweeping his thumb over the head a few times until he’s bucking his hips up into his fist, until he’s hard and leaking precome over his fingers despite the dry slide of his skin.

“There you go,” Harry’s murmuring, and he licks over the tip, and Niall lets out a strangled moan. Doesn’t waste time after that, and sucks him off properly. Niall watches as Harry gets his cock in his mouth, slowly, then pulls back and does it again and again, bobs his head on his cock, getting him wet, and he can’t quite think or speak.

When he pulls off, it’s to lick over his length, gets his mouth acquainted with every inch of Niall’s cock, and all he can do is run his hands through Harry’s curls. Pull when it feels good, making Harry moan around him, and he feels it everywhere. Makes him sob into the still air of the room, but the sound is barely heard over the storm outside. Niall doesn’t care, competes with it anyway.

Harry smirks around the dick in his mouth, and being the twat he is, winks at Niall, before he’s going deeper, and Niall can feel his cock being enclosed in tight, tight heat and realizes with a moan loud enough to shake the room that he’s in Harry’s fucking _throat._

That’s never happened. Not to him.

“Holy fuck,” he’s swearing, and Harry swallows around him. Makes him jerk his hips, fuck into his throat, and he’s too close. Reels his hips back, and Harry seems to understand, because he opens his mouth, and pulls Niall off, not long until Niall shoots his load into mouth, his tongue catching most of it.

“What the fucking _fuck,_ you sex freak,” Niall’s saying, mostly out of his orgasm high, and Harry just bites at his inner thigh, making him jump and whimper a bit in sensitivity. He feels him smile against his skin, and he can’t help but smile back. “How’d you - fuck. I don’t even know anymore. Knew you were talented in bed, but _fuck._ I barely lasted three minutes.”

“We’ll improve your stamina,” Harry’s saying, patting at his leg, sounding overtly smug, and Niall growls.

Harry doesn’t say much more a bit later on, blushes instead after he’d screamed and yelled when Niall blew him on the floor and had gotten him off in less than two minutes, making him come down his throat. Niall had been very pleased with himself, then.

He doesn’t think of Selena once, he realizes later on.

.

“I was thinking.”

“A dangerous thing.”

“ _I_ _was thinking,_ ” Harry reiterates, pinching at Niall’s thigh, then crawling up to sit next to him on the bed. Pulls at the hem of Niall’s robe, “I would like you to fuck me.”

Niall chokes on his champagne, and sees from the corner of his eye, the attendant uncovering their orders for room service on the small dining table near the balcony doors is resolutely trying not to blush. Niall tips him with several notes, too much, and asks him not to repeat anything he’d just heard _anywhere,_ and to leave with a rushed “ _Happy Christmas_ ”. Practically pushes him out the door.

“Harry, what the _fuck,_ ” he groans, not because he’s aroused, but because he’s embarrassed and appalled at his lack of decency, and Harry’s just shrugging, already untying his robe and stripping, already naked underneath.

“I mean, while I’ve got you here,” he says, and he’s pulling Niall back to the bed, disrobing him as well and kissing at his hip. Niall tries not to shiver, but when Harry starts sucking a love bite to where his muscle juts out just slightly, he can’t help but moan. “Come on, we can eat later.”

“Harry,” he says, voice strangled as Harry pulls at his cock, almost completely hard. “Fucking christ, just. Don’t mention shagging in front of the staff, alright?”

“Okay,” he’s saying happily, then without a word, crawls back to the bed and gets up on his hands and knees, presenting his arse to Niall, and Niall groans again, because Harry’s fucking insatiable and in every honesty, he can’t wait to fuck him.

“Do you-”

He doesn’t get to finish asking because Harry’s throwing a bottle of lube and a condom in his general direction, and Niall stares, just. Surprised.

“Well, come on, want you in me before Christmas is over,” he’s huffing, but Niall wants to take his time. Doesn’t have quite a lot of it, but he doesn’t feel like rushing. Not with Harry.

“Hold on,” Niall murmurs, before he gets behind Harry and. Kisses the back of his neck, runs his hands down the length of his torso languidly, over his back. Presses into the dimples at the bottom of his spine, palms briefly at his bum. When Harry makes an impatient noise, he just shushes him, turns his head so he can kiss him, licks over his lips and then over his tongue.

Harry eventually relaxes, making small needy noises as he chases after Niall’s lips as he keeps on kissing him. Enough to let Niall press him down to the mattress, gently, and Niall kisses his cheek, then sweeps his hair to one side to kiss over his shoulder. Down his back, still uninked after Harry had gotten so many new tattoos over the last few years, his left arm almost completely covered in a sleeve. Slithers down until he reaches his arse, and he feel his heart racing in his chest again. HIs cock twitches, hard and hitting his stomach, and he presses a small kiss right over his hole.

Harry groans, shoving his hips to the mattress, and Niall uncaps the lube then. Warms it with his fingers and teases Harry’s rim with it.

“Ni,” he’s moaning, pressing his face on the pillow, “Please. Don’t be cruel.”

Niall just leans down to kiss him, a small press of his lips against his, and he pushes his finger into him, slowly, and Harry is tight, so tight around his one finger and he gasps out loud. Harry’s no better, drowning out his noise on the sheets, but it’s like Niall can feel it anyway.  Twists his finger out and fucks back in, again and again until Harry’s asking for more.

Soon, he’s got three fingers in him, fucking in and out and occasionally brushing against his prostate, making him lift his head off the mattress and moan loudly. He pins him down with a hand to his lower back, pressing him back down because he can’t seem to stop moving, making these desperate sounds.

“Niall,” Harry’s pleading, clenching around his fingers, and Niall can’t wait much more. Puts on the condom and positions himself behind Harry.

“If you’re uncomfortable-”

Harry’s groaning, frustrated and horny, and reaches behind him to grab at Niall’s arse. “Just. Fuck me, you wanker.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s mumbling, but he can’t quite control it. Pushes in, slowly, carefully, until he’s fully sheathed in his tight heat. He swears under his breath, molding his chest to Harry’s back as he tries to catch his breath, overwhelmed at the feeling of being inside him.

Harry’s moaning under him, loud, almost sobbing with it, and he’s begging him to move so prettily, and Niall would do anything for his. Draws his hips back, and fucks in again, faster, surer.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he’s cursing, dicking into him, drilling his cock into his arse. “Harry-”

“ _Niall_ ,” he’s calling out to him, grabbing at the sheets, knuckles turning white with how hard he’s gripping them. Pushes his hips back as Niall thrusts forward, taking him deeper. “Niall, come on-”

He gets up on his knees, pulling Harry’s hips up with him so just his arse is in the air, and he fucks in again, making sure he feels it.

Harry screams, losing any remaining inhibitions, few as they were from the beginning, and he pushes back as Niall pistons his hips, fucking into him. Niall holds on to his love handles, squeezing at the soft flesh as he brings him back to his cock, over and over and his arse feels so good around him. Squeezing and clenching and Harry feels so good, taking it, all of it.

“Oh, _fuck,_ right there,” Harry’s moaning when Niall thrusts in at a certain angle, slapping his hand on the headboard, holds on to one of the bars. “Fuck me, oh, _fuck._ ”

“The mouth on you,” Niall’s trying to tease, but it comes off flat, breathy as he pushes into his body, hard and fast and just a bit rough. Squeezes his arse, brings his thumb to where his cock disappears into Harry. Touches the rim, just slightly, and Harry’s moaning, sounds like he’s close to tears as his breathing quickens, pushing back on him.

“I’m going to come,” he’s whimpering, muffling his yells into the pillow and Niall can see him snake his hand down his own erection, but he swats it away. Brings his own hand down and pulls Harry off as he fucks him, going faster and harder and he knows he’s close, as well. Almost there.

“Come on, Harry. Come for me, love,” he’s murmuring into his ear, biting the lobe, and Harry’s turning his head slightly and he can see that he’s biting his bottom lip. Offers his own instead, lowering his head, and Harry takes it. Kisses him hard, then sucking his bottom lip in with his teeth. Bites down, and Niall can feel him moan as he comes. Comes all over the sheets below him, over his stomach, over Niall’s fingers, bucking into his hand, and he collapses back down to the bed, spent and sweaty.

“Come in me, Ni, you can do it,” Harry’s mumbling, sounding tired, but Niall fucks into him anyway, relieved to hear him hum his approval, squirming a bit in sensitivity, but he doesn’t push him away, in any case. So Niall thrusts into him, again and again without much of a pace, and Harry’s clenching his arse around him, and he can’t hold back. Comes in him, ringing it out with minute thrusts, and he’s gasping, grips on Harry’s hips hard.

Try as he might, he couldn’t help but fall on top of him, exhausted from holding him up. Harry lets out a small “ _oof_ ” in surprise, but when he looks at him, offers Niall a kiss of comfort. He takes it, grateful, and Harry taps on his hip to get him to slide out. He does so, with a bit of difficulty, and Harry helps him to lay on his back beside him, instead.

“ _Well_ ,” he’s saying then, moving a bit to settle on Niall’s chest. He looks much too smug, fucked out and gorgeous. “You’re quite good at that.”

“Fuck you, hand me my burger,” Niall says, tries to sound nonchalant, but he sounds too tired to pull it off convincingly. Harry just grins at him, and does as he’s told.

.

Niall and Harry spend Christmas in Niall’s room, not very clothed and if covered at all, it’s either in robes or the duvet just wrapped around their bodies, ordering everything off the room service menu and drinking too many bottles of wine and too many beers. The storm’s still raging outside the windows, so it’s their excuse, but Niall knows full well that even had the sun been shining and the weather perfectly suitable for a day out skiing or any sort of physical activity, he and Harry would still probably choose to lock themselves within the confines of his suite.

They have a childish water fight in the bathroom. Niall attacks him with the showerhead, Harry kicks and aims water at him, rather pathetically, from the hot tub.

They watch a multitude of films with some relation to the holidays. Niall picks out ‘Elf’ and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ Harry chooses ‘Home Alone’ and ‘The Polar Express,’ plus ‘You’ve Got Mail,’ because he loves Tom Hanks just a bit too much.

They fuck about, a bit, suck each other off, tug each other off, Niall fucks Harry again, and he honestly thinks Harry’s damaged his vocal chords, with how loudly and how often he had screamed out. It’s quite genuinely very flattering, makes him preen and blush when Harry just has to get his mouth on him after he’s come, in gratitude.

.

“Yeah, I heard about it. Tell Barbara I’m expecting a free sample when I get to visit,” he hears Harry say as he’s getting back from his shower, looks over to see Harry staring at his phone. Registers he’s Facetiming Anne, his suspicions confirmed when he hears her voice come out tinny from the phone’s speakers.

“ _You don’t do that enough,_ ” she’s saying, sounding stern, and Niall snorts when Harry looks offended, hand on heart and everything. Tries not to make anything of the fact that he sees him dressed in one of his shirts. Probably just to be decent in front of his mum. “ _Always promise but never follow through. Mean it this time._ ”

“Yeah, of course, mum,” he’s replying, and at least he’s sounding genuine about it. Harry does that, sometimes, Feels too much and it’s not bad, really. That he knows his feelings and acknowledges them, but it’s been a problem, him focusing too much on himself that he doesn’t realize how other people feel. How him always putting what he wants first, how he always jumps the gun. It’s sometimes been shit. “I’ll go there once I get back from here.”

“ _I’ll be waiting,_ ” she tells him, and Niall sits next to him on the bed, pulls the robe closer to his body. “ _Is someone there with you? I thought you broke it off. Please don’t tell me you got back together-”_

“No, no, I’m not with her,” Harry’s saying, and he smiles over at Niall and he takes the little tilt of his head as a ‘ _Is it okay if I show you?’,_ and Niall just shrugs. He loves Anne, it’ll be fine. Harry moves the phone slightly, so both of them are onscreen. “Look who I found being broody in the gym.”

“ _Niall!_ ” Anne’s grinning then, looking so much more alive and Niall beams back. Pinches Harry’s hip smugly, because his mum loves him more than she does her own son, and he’s never gotten tired of rubbing it in Harry’s face. “ _Oh my god, your hair’s so dark - but you look like you haven’t aged a day. How do you do it? Teach Harry, his face is getting much too long.”_

Niall laughs when Harry squawks at his mother indignantly, and he answers, “Cherub face is doing me wonders. I’ll look like this for years. Look like I’m twenty when I’m in my forties. Haz just isn’t blessed with it. Gene skipped him, probably, you’re looking lovely, Anne.”

“ _Knew you were my fave for a reason,_ ” she tells him, and Harry’s skulking next to him. Pinches at his hip again, but he doesn’t quite budge. Just slaps his general crotch area lightly, just below view of the camera. “ _What are you doing there, then?_ ”

“Booked a trip for two, but my girl couldn’t make it,” he says simply, and Harry’s gone quiet next to him. “She’s on a girls only vacation in Indonesia. Hoping she’ll get pictures with some elephants. Do they have elephants there?”

“ _Not really sure, but here’s to hoping anyway,_ ” she tells him, smiling. “ _I love seeing the two of you together, you boys. Hadn’t seen Harry this relaxed or happy in quite some time. Granted, I don’t see much of him anyway, but still. Nice to see the best in him. Always knew how to bring that out, didn’t you, Ni?_ ”

“Oh. I don’t know,” Niall’s smiling sheepishly, but Harry’s nodding next to him, his hair flopping about.

“I feel very much at the top of the world, at the mo,” Harry says seriously to his mother, and Niall snorts, laughing. “Well, mum. Greet Gems and Robin for me, would you? I’m quite tired, sorry. Merry Christmas. Love you.”

“ _Happy Christmas, love. Make good choices,_ ” she says, and she says it so lightly that Niall barely realizes that she truly does mean it, in the way she’s staring hard at her son.

Harry ends the call, sighs a bit, before he looks at Niall. Gives him this weird wonky smile that’s no less endearing, still dimply, but purposely stupid, and he says, “Call your dad.”

“Already greeted the entire family this morning,” Niall says, but Harry’s already leaning over to get his phone from the nightstand.

“Wanna talk to him, would be nice to speak to someone who actually counts _me_ as their favorite,” he huffs, and Niall’s laughing at him, calls him a twat, but lets him make the call.

Isn’t long before Bobby answers, his face appearing on the screen, a little too close, much too red. Niall can see the pint in his hand.

“ _Niall! Is that Harry?_ ” are his first words, and Harry’s making pleased little noises. Niall rolls his eyes, and nods.

“Bobby!” Harry says, grins, dimples and all. “What a man, you are. Great taste, you have.”

“Da, Happy Christmas,” Niall greets him before Harry can completely take all of his attention. Angles the camera more towards him, pushing away Harry’s attempts to get back on screen. “How’s everyone? Greg and Denise okay? Theo? How’s Ma?”

“ _All fine, Theo’s just been put to bed, and we’re all fine. Quite drunk, honestly,_ ” he’s answering, chuckling, and he topples a bit, the screen shaking. Harry makes a concerned noise, but Niall just snorts, knows how his father gets when he’s had too many. Shit balance, shit grip. “ _Aha. Almost tripped. I’m fine._ ”

“Yeah, good to hear-”

“Make good choices!”

“I’ll try to see everyone before the month ends,” Niall talks over Harry’s advice, not even originally his, the wanker, tells Bobby, “Be getting back to London next week, I’ll try to bring Selena with me. You owe her a bowling rematch.”

“ _Will do, she’ll still lose,”_ he answers, and Niall clucks his tongue at him, though he knows it’s true. Harry’s gone still again, and he’d told Niall he’d be fine. But he knows that he’s feeling more than he’s letting on. “ _Harry, my boy being behaved?”_

Harry comes out of his stupor, then. Looks wickedly at the camera, and Niall knows what he’s thinking immediately, and panics.

“ANYWAY, anyway, shit - it’s getting late over here, I’ll see you soon, have a good one,” Niall’s rushing to say, and thank god because Bobby’s drunk enough to not question it, just shrugs it off and waves as he disconnects.

Harry pouts at him, says petulantly, “Bobby Horan deserves to know the that his son has, many, _many_ , times, within the very short period of time since early this morning, has decidedly acted in such a manner that cannot be considered _behaved_.”

“My Da doesn't deserve to hear about how his son has been sucking you off, you twat,” he says, tries not to blush but does so anyway, and Harry cackles, tackling him down to the bed and biting at his skin, anywhere he can reach.

He tries to make a mental note to chat with Sel, later, but when Harry gets both their cocks in his stupidly big hand, he loses any and all trains of thought.

.

“This pool’s got no business being this fancy,” Niall’s muttering, sat on one of the steps on the underwater staircase, unbelievable. The pools hardly even five feet deep, doesn't need a bloody staircase. Harry's loving it, though, waddling around and look in over the ledge of the pool, the edge fancy and made of glass and see through, then below, a larger, supposedly deeper pool, and Niall thinks bitterly than it looks normal, why couldn't they have swam down there. The ceiling’s a dome, gorgeous and letting in just a bit of sunlight, and there are fancy, plush looking chaise lounges poolside.

“I think it's quite pretty,” Harry's saying, twat that he is, taking a picture of it all, carefully trying not to get his phone wet. Frames it so the columns are seen, parallel, tries not to include the windows, where the snow storm’s not getting any better. Turns around, and takes a photo of the fresco, a painted scene of the mountains during the summer, free of snow and the grass green. Niall makes a note to come back here when it's not snowing, heard of the incredible golf course. Fervently tries not to imagine him and Harry coming back together and playing around while playing golf, like they’d used to, so long ago.

“It’s just a pool, all you’re going to do is _swim_ , useless, all of this is useless,” he’s muttering, looking around and it’s pretty, but all he wants to do is sit around in the water and do nothing.

“ _Niallllllll_ ,” Harry draws his name out, swims over to him and places his phone carefully on the ledge of the pool, just behind where Niall’s sitting. Stays close to him, so their faces are close enough that Niall can feel him breathe on his lips. “It’s Boxing Day, don’t be so whiny.”

“I’ll be whiny if I want to,” Niall huffs, but Harry latches on to his bottom lip. Bites on it, then comes closer to kiss him properly on the mouth. “Harry, not here.”

“You should be more. _Generous_ ,” he whispers, then Niall splutters when Harry’s climbing on him, settling easily on his lap. “What the day’s made for.”

“ _Harry,_ get some form of decency and get _off,_ ” he says, but Harry’s reaching beneath the water and palming at his reluctantly interested dick.

“Know how I’d like to get off.”

“Haz, we’re in a _public pool_ , anyone could just walk in.”

“Tipped the staff off, gave them plenty to shut up about,” he replies, smirking when Niall whimpers audibly as he grazes the head over his swim shorts.

“And what did you tell them, what we’d be doing?”

“You were going to shag me in the pool, duh,” Harry mutters, and Niall splutters again, turning red immediately.

“ _Harry._ ”

“What’s the point in booking a five-star hotel if you can’t test their service? They’re doing bloody well, by the way, one of ‘em handed me some silicone lube and one of those intense stimulation condoms-”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Niall groans, and he pinches at Harry’s nipples, but he just refuses to feel embarrassed about any of it. Just grins at Niall as he paddles over to the other end of the pool where his towel and robe are, and pulls out from underneath them the promised bottle and packet. “ _Oh my god_ , you have no shame.”

“Very little,” Harry agrees, and Niall can feel him beneath the water, working to remove his yellow shorts, balling them up and plops it sloppily on the ledge, sopping wet and Niall can’t even find the time to be indignant because Harry’s grinding his bare bum over his crotch, and he’s only human. He moans, throws his head back, leaving Harry free to suck on his throat, purpling marks everywhere. “Come on, Ni. Pool sex is so fun, I’ll make it good.”

He kisses him, lips soft and plump from everything they’d been doing the past day and a half, and Niall can’t quite fight him. Just, instantly relaxes under his touch, and Harry hums appreciatively against his mouth. Works to remove his shorts, placing them next to his on the ledge, and comes back immediately to take Niall’s dick in his hand.

“There you go,” Harry’s mumbling, as Niall fattens up in his fingers, hard and very much ready for him. He places his knees on the step, either side of Niall’s hips, raises himself slightly til his bum is above water, hovering above Niall, balancing himself with hands on the ledge bracketing him in . “Do the honors?”

Niall doesn’t speak, just groans and gives up. Pours lube over his fingers and doesn’t bother to warm it up, they’re going to be fucking underwater anyway, and spreads him open, lubes him up with impatient strokes. He’s still quite open, which makes him groan and twitch beneath the surface, and Harry’s cock is right in front of his face, so why the fuck not. As he slides in the second finger, he leans down and takes the head into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry whines above him, hips shoving forward just slightly, filling his mouth a little bit more. “Fuck, Niall.”

He hums around him, and he can’t quite take him into his throat, doesn’t have that kind of a gag reflex, but he mouths around, pulling back and licking up his length, and because he’s got no shame as well, apparently, lets it slap against his tongue, the sound of it lewd and obscene in the quiet. Harry’s got no complaints, swearing and moaning and he’s got a hand in Niall’s hair, pulling just the slightest bit.

He fucks in with three fingers, then, and Harry clenches around him. pushing back for more, and Niall knows the lube must feel good. Can feel it, the frictionless slide of it and all he can feel is the way he feels his arse just take his fingers, stretches around him.

“Think we’re good,” Harry’s gasping, leaning over to roll the condom down Niall’s erection, and he lubes him up liberally, even beneath the water. He comes back down, and slides Niall’s cock into him, and they both groan at the sensation.

“Okay, _okay,_ not a completely horrible idea,” Niall’s muttering nonsense, and Harry just laughs at him, before he lets out a devastating moan, almost echoes in the room, as he’s fully seated on Niall, filled to the brim. His knuckles are white where his hands are gripping on the edge of the pool, as he lifts himself up, slowly, and slams back down, the water sloshing around them as he rides Niall hard. The condom was a good choice, gift from the heavens, Niall’s hazy mind provides, because it’s so thin, feels almost as if he’s not wearing one, and he doesn’t know what the special features of it are, but Harry’s trembling around him, moaning like anything, so they must be doing wonders.

He brings his head down, whimpering, and Niall understands, grips his love handles and helps him fuck himself on his cock, lifting him off and pushing him back down to take him. Kisses him, licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue as he fills his arse, over and over, makes Harry take it.

“Fuck,” he’s breathing, leans down and rubs his cheek against Niall’s jaw, not quite clean shaven and Niall can’t imagine, how it must feel against his skin. “You feel so good.”

“Glad to hear it, love,” he says, thrusting up as well as he can as he brings Harry down. Tries to do it faster, but Harry slows his hips deliberately, works against his pace.

Pulls back to look Niall in the eye and says to him, “Slow. Want to be here for a while. Need to get my money’s worth.”

Niall starts to laugh, but groans when he realizes just how close he is. Glares at Harry when he clenches around him, pulling him even closer to the edge of coming. “Not fair.”

“I told you, I’ll make it good. Just, let me,” he says, kissing him again, before he pulls himself up off his cock, incredibly slow, and Niall hates him a bit. Lifts up from him until he’s almost completely off, just the tip teasing at the rim, and he slams back down, hard, hard enough for the water to slosh unnaturally. Continues in this pace, murmuring every now and then to Niall, “ _don’t come, don’t come,_ ” just torturing him with every squeeze and clench and his arse just feels so good round him. Taking him so well everywhere, he can feel Harry everywhere, and he wants to come.

“Harry, please.”

“Shit, you feel so good,” Harry’s gasping as he fucks himself down, rides him, up and down taking forever. Just like the way he talks, “Fuck, feel you everywhere, so good inside me, never had it this good.”

It doesn’t feel like a lie, and Niall hopes it isn’t, but when Harry shoves forward, his cock rubbing up against his abdomen searching for friction, his thoughts leave him mind, totally blank.

“Harry, come on.”

“No,” he says, voice thick and he looks down at Niall, pupils blown and he looks wicked, and Niall hates him a bit more. Too pleased, says, “I can make you come right this moment if I so wanted, but I don’t.” He stays firmly in place, stays seated on his cock, and doesn’t move an inch as Niall tries to get him to move. Dick. “I want to stay here. Want you to fill me up and fuck me until we fall apart.”

“I already am,” he grits out, but Harry has his way, as he usually does. Keeps riding him at his excruciating pace, lets him fill him up so slowly and it feels incredible, but Niall needs more. Feels the need to come everywhere, but Harry grips the base of his cock occasionally, looks at him sweetly and always, always stops when he feels like he’s close. Dick dick dick dick dick, the twattiest dick. Niall hates him a lot.

“Okay,” Harry says, voice low and he’s clenching around Niall, “Don’t come, not yet.”

Niall doesn’t know what’s happening, but Harry’s finally, _finally,_ riding him properly, but it’s all incredibly fucking _unfair,_ because he’s clearly just letting go, completely going for it. Slams down on his cock and fucks himself and whimpering and moaning and making all of these noises, right in Niall’s ear, and it’s so unfair. Makes his toes curl with how much he wants to come.

“ _Shit, shit, shit, shit, right there,_ ” he’s sobbing, and he comes untouched, cock shooting over his stomach, underwater, his arse clenching uncontrollably around him as he climaxes, and Niall can’t.

“Harry-”

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Harry says, blissed out and lethargic, doesn’t move, slumped on top of him. “Okay, go ahead, come in me-”

Words are barely out of his mouth when Niall grips his hips, and pushes into him roughly, brings him down and it’s barely a few seconds before he’s coming, spilling into the condom, in him. He whites out for the quickest moment as he’s shooting inside him, and when he comes to, Harry’s licking into his mouth, mumbling about how good he feels.

“Cruel, you are,” he says, feeling limp and exhausted and Harry’s still on him, and his cock throbs in his arse. Pulls out, slowly, fighting through the aftershocks, and Harry’s on him immediately once he’s out, kissing and leaving marks all over. “Cruel.”

“In the name of fantastic shagging,” Harry murmurs, and Niall snorts.

“You were good too,” he says softly, rubbing up Harry's sides. “Don't think I said. You were good. But that was still cruel.”

“Thanks, Nialler,” he replies, “always knew you were a generous lover. Good decision, good decision. Means a lot, coming from you.”

“What? Don't be a twat.”

“Please,” Harry's scoffing, nuzzling his nose, “have you seen you? You'd be feeling pretty good too, had you fucked you.”

Niall doesn't quite know what to say to that. Hides his blush by dipping his head under the water as Harry just laughs at him.

.

Harry's in the shower when Niall gets the call, the next day. Sees Selena’s picture on his screen as he's sat on the bed watching reruns of Fallon, waiting for him to accept.

He feels off-kilter, then. Like there's a sudden weight that's just landed on his shoulders, compressing his chest. Feels guilt, but also. It's strange. Doesn't know how to describe it.

He hesitates momentarily, then turns the TV off and accepts the call, swiping the screen, and her face comes in view, without any makeup, looking so well-rested and glowy and happy. Her hair’s tied and he can see on the corner of the screen that Gigi and Taylor are splashing each other in a pool. Makes him uneasy.

“ _Hey, babe,_ ” she greets him, smiling, and he fights to smile back. “ _Sorry I couldn't get to you earlier. Went on a two-day trek with the girls, climbed a mountain down to a beach. You should have seen it, it was so blue and clear and it was literal paradise._ ”

“Sounds amazing, love,” he says quietly, smiling fondly at her. Tries to quell the feeling in his chest. “Happy Christmas, then.”

“ _Merry Christmas,”_ she answers in turn. Looks behind her briefly when someone calls her name, says, “ _Can't! I'm talking to Niall!_ ” There are sounds of teasing on the other end, several girls whistling and squealing, and it makes him feel worse.

“Sel,” he says, and she turns back to look at him, looking so happy. He wants to tell her, desperately. Wants to be honest. But he can't. Not now, not when they're not even together in person. Can't crush her. Swallows, asks instead, “How are you? Everything okay?”

“ _Yeah, I'm super relaxed and I'm feeling really rested,_ ” she tells him, and he sees her walking off when one of the girls pester her again, goes inside some room and closes the door behind her. “ _It's a miracle. We’re going to go see some elephants tomorrow, do you want anything? Stuffed toy, picture, special elephant greeting?”_

He stays quiet, and he can just hear the quiet hum of the shower running in the bathroom. Breathes deeply, and says quietly, “Just want to come home and see you.”

She looks at him then, and her face softens significantly. Her eyes are bright when she tells him, “ _I miss you._ ”

“Me too,” he says, and nothing’s a lie. Everything comes from his confused heart, perfectly happy with what he has with her, but with Harry, now. It doesn’t feel wrong, even if he knows it should, and it makes him feel all that much worse about what he’s done, what he’s doing. “Good to see you doing okay.”

“ _How are you, then?”_ she asks, and Niall doesn’t know how to answer her properly.

“I’m fine. There’s been a snowstorm here for the past few days, weather reports say it might be a few more days until it clears up.”

“ _But you’re safe?_ ” she asks him, looking at him nervously, and he knows how she gets. Worries about him, if he’s okay, if he’s feeling under the weather, can tell by the look on his face if he’s just not fine. He schools his face to something somewhat neutral, tries to give her a genuine smile.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“ _Okay, as long as you’re safe,”_ she says, pursing her lips a little, the way he knows when she’s not fully convinced. “ _But. Are you really okay? Isn’t it lonely?_ ”

_No, it’s not._ “I’m okay,” he just repeats, smiling again. “I really am. It’s peaceful here. You’d like it. Quiet, good food, great shopping too, from what I’ve heard, but. You know, can’t quite leave the hotel, unless I wanna get buried in snow.”

“ _Get me a ball of snow, then,_ ” she says, “ _I’ve heard Italian ice is really good.”_

“I don’t think that’s - yeah, alright,” he says with a sigh, laughing along with her.

“ _Okay, Cara’s been wanting to go to town, try some of the local food, you know, authentic,_ ” she says, making a face. He laughs, because he knows she can’t quite handle that kind of thing. “ _Need to get ready, and everything. I’ll be seeing you.”_

“I’ll be seeing you,” he repeats to her, smiles at her gently.

“ _I love you._ ”

“I love you,” he replies readily, and waves as they disconnect, and he drops his phone on the mattress beside him as soon as he locks it. Still feels odd, terribly off-balance and like he can’t quite breathe properly. Knows something’s bothering him, genuinely.

The sound of the television set being turned on breaks him out of his thoughts, and his mouth goes dry when he sees Harry plopped down on the couch, wearing some t-shirt he’d borrowed from him. He hadn’t even heard the door to the bathroom open, hadn’t even noticed him, and it makes him feel even worse.

He gets off the bed, goes over to the sofa and drops down on the other end. Harry won’t look at him, though, just watches Jimmy Fallon in the middle of a Lip Sync Battle versus Oscar Isaac and John Boyega.

“That was Selena, then?” he’s asking, sounding blank, still not looking at him.

Niall swallows, answers, “Yeah. Called in from Bali. She’s doing okay. Going to see some elephants tomorrow with her girls.”

“Yeah, heard that. That’s good, fun for them,” Harry says, rather plainly. Glances at him briefly to give him a flash of a smile, before turning back to the screen.

Niall doesn’t like the tension in the room. It’s foreign to them, to him and Harry. It’s never been something he’s ever had to worry about, with him, but now.

“Harry-”

“I promised you I’d be okay, Niall,” he’s saying before Niall can show his concern, looks at him properly. Doesn’t quite smile, but he’s not frowning, doesn’t look in any way devastated. Just is. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Niall stares at him, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. Harry reaches out to run his hand over his thigh in what he supposes is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it just makes him all that more doubtful of Harry’s true emotions.

”You sure?” he asks quietly, and Harry leans over to kiss his cheek. Softly, gently, very quickly. “You’ll tell me if you’re not alright, yeah? Don’t lie to me just so you can spare my feelings.”

“It’s not like I didn’t know you’d be talking to her, at one point,” he says, shrugging a bit. Niall reaches over to take the remote control, turns off the TV as John’s starting to dramatize ‘Bad Blood.’ Doesn’t need to see or hear any of that.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and Harry snorts at him.

“Don’t apologize for talking to your girlfriend, we’re okay, it’s fine,” he tells him, scratches at Niall’s stomach, as if that will make him

any less nervous.

“But you’ll tell me when you’re not feeling that way anymore, okay? Please. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I promise,” he says, and he’s getting up from his seat, says, “I’ll just go to bed. I’m quite tired.”

“Okay,” he says. Doesn’t react at all when Harry’s moving towards his bed, not towards the door to go to his own suite. Can’t afford to overthink about the fact that Harry hasn’t been to his own room since he stopped over the other night to watch ‘Love Actually.’ “Want me to join you?”

“Oh,” Harry’s mumbling, looks over to him as he pulls back the covers to get in. “When I meant ‘go to bed,’ I really meant, go to bed. I don’t think I have much energy for anything else tonight, Ni.”

“I know what you meant, twat,” he rolls his eyes, stands up and goes over to the bed. “ _I_ meant, do you want me to cuddle you, or anything?”

Harry’s quiet for a moment, and he admits, “Would like that, yeah.”

“Big spoon or little spoon?”

“I’ll little spoon, if that’s okay,” he’s answering, and Niall hums his assent. Tucks him in as he lies down, and slides in behind him, turns off the lights before molding his chest to Harry’s back. Holds him close, presses a light kiss on the back of Harry’s neck. It’s much more comforting than he should ever admit.

“Night, Haz,” he’s mumbling, nodding off.

“Night, Ni.”

.

When he wakes up, there’s already a table full of breakfast out, and Harry’s not on the bed. He’s on one of the chairs, where he’s dragged it to the closed balcony door, staring out where the snow’s still coming down, but it seems to be dying down, just the slightest bit. Dramatic idiot.

“God, you really are out of a fucking soap opera,” he groans out tiredly, burrowing into the duvet. He hears chuckling, and feels the bed dip a bit.

“I have theatrical tendencies,” Harry tells him, as if he doesn’t know, and the cover’s pulled back until Harry’s looking down on him, small smile on his face as he hands  him a warm croissant, and he’s lightly buttered it, the way he knows Niall likes, even though it’s already quite heavy with the stuff in the first place. Niall sits up and takes the bread with a quiet “ _Thank you._ ” Takes a small bite, fails in fighting back a grin because it really is super fucking delicious, and it's comforting. All of it is comforting.

“So. What do you want to do today?” Niall asks him, offers him the bread to bite. Harry accepts, taking a big one, and he chews rather happily.

Niall had worn him down on the self-imposed gluten ban, finally, the other day. Gave up as he was eating this pasta with tomatoes and pancetta and Parmesan and he'd looked so sad as he watched Niall just eat and look so happy. Niall had offered him a forkful, encouraged him as Harry had continually refused, looking more and more unconvinced with his own words. Niall had kissed him, said something about wanting to bite at his love handles, misses the bit of stomach he used to  have, wants more to hold and adore. The blush had been red and high on his skin, and he’d said, finally, “ _Doesn't matter to me, if you want to eat it or not. It's up to you, but. I'm pretty sure I'll adore you, anyway.”_ And that had been that.

“I don't know,” Harry's pouting a little, holds up his cup of coffee for Niall to take a sip from. “There’s a spa, heard great things about those, but I’m not sure, don’t think we need it, not with the way we’ve been. Could hang out at the bar, but that’d mean we’d have to get dressed, ugh. We could just finish that Star Wars marathon today, though, if you want.”

He watches as Niall drinks from his coffee silently, takes a sip himself once he’s done, and it's silent for a while. Not uncomfortable, though.

They finish the croissant, bites between them, and share the coffee, before Niall finally moves. Takes the cup in Harry’s hand and sets it on the nightstand, and reels him in for a kiss, soft and sweet on his lips. Harry responds to it immediately, cups his face in his hands and holds him close. Makes him feel. Something.

“Not playing around today, huh?” he's teasing, but Niall's not in quite the same mindset. Stares at him, and then kisses him again, softer, gentler. Skims his lips slightly over his jaw, breathes against his skin. Harry must feel the shift in the atmosphere, because he drops it, embraces Niall closely as they kiss.

“Will you fuck me?” Niall asks him, and Harry stills in his arms.

“Niall, that's,” Harry's murmuring, and Niall can tell that he wants to, with the way he's trembling slightly, just on the verge of saying yes. “That's. Are you sure? Have you done it before?”

“I've been with men, you're not the first,” he says, grips on his arms. “But, um. Being fucked, that's. Not really something I've done.”

“Niall.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t trust you, Harry,” he says, and he wants it. Feels it thrumming in his veins, tingling at the end of his fingers. “I’ve fucked you, it’s only fair that you get to fuck me.”

“That’s because I wanted it.”

“Well, I want it now,” Niall says, sets his gaze on him, and pulls on the hem of his shirt. “I’m asking you to. You don’t want to?”

“Niall, I don’t think you understand just how much I want to,” Harry’s saying, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. “Think I feel it all the way to my teeth, with how much I want to.”

“Then go for it.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Not like I didn’t know that it would,” he says, strips Harry off of his shirt, then removes his own. “Come on. While we’re here.”

Harry pauses then, takes in his words. Says, “Yeah, right. Right. While we’re here.”

He guides him to lie on his back, and he presses a kiss on his lips, moves his mouth and Niall sighs against his mouth. Feels warmer and safer, then, as Harry touches him everywhere, pulls off their bottoms. Leaves his skin feeling as if it were on fire.

He tastes like warm coffee, slightly sweet, every bit of it feeling like home. Niall closes his eyes, overwhelmed and confused, and he steels himself for the fall.

He hears the faint click of the lube, and a moment later, a finger probes at his hole, just circling the rim. Pushes in slowly, and he forces himself to relax, breathing hard as he lets Harry in.

“Shit.”

“Calm down, Ni,” he’s mumbling, pushes until his finger is in, knuckle deep, and he waits, lets him adjust. “You okay?”

“ _Shit_ ,” he just repeats, shutting his eyes and breathes through it. Takes in the sensation, and it’s not completely painful, though it feels strange. “Yeah, yeah. Another.”

Harry looks at him, searches for any sign of discomfort, but Niall’s growling, moves his hips to get him to do something. “ _Alright,_ alright,” he mutters, pulls his finger out only to push in with two, just as slowly.

Niall groans, tilts his head back to thump against the pillows, and feels his cock twitch a bit, at the thought of being filled up. Clenches around the fingers in him, which earns him a moan and a chuckle. Harry kisses down his neck as he pushes in three, going slightly quicker, a bit rougher. Adjusts the angle, and Niall arches his back and yells, not expecting the brush against his nerves, makes his dick fully hard and wanting more.

“Harry, get on with it,” he grits out, and his arse can’t seem to stop throbbing around his fingers as he opens him up.

“It’s your first time, Ni, I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he tells him, but he does thrust in faster. Niall sees his want, hears the desperation in his voice. “And, I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound full of myself, but I’m not exactly small. I just. Need to be thorough.”

“I'd very much like to be full of you, though.”

“Niall, _fuck,_ ” Harry's breathing out, shoves his fingers in for a few more thrusts, and then pulling them out. Rolls on a condom, and moves to get in position. “You'll tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Niall says, hopes it doesn't come out too desperate, and he gasps at the first touch of the head of his cock on his arse.

Nothing really prepares him for the first push in, doesn't expect the searing pain as he's slowly split open by Harry's cock. He yells, short and loud, and Harry pauses immediately, just a few inches in.

“Ni-”

“Fuck, hold on,” he says, trying to breathe, and Harry lowers himself, cups his face and kisses him, over and over.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry-”

He bites at his shoulder, digs his teeth in as he tries to adjust. Takes a deep breath, and spreads his legs, knocking Harry's bum with his foot, try to get him moving.

“Are you sure?”

He nods into his neck, hoping he can feel it anyway, and then he's moving forward slowly. Pushes in, in, in, until Niall can feel his balls against his arse. Niall bites in again, and he can’t quite believe it. He’s got a cock in his arse, and more than that. Harry’s in him, fully, filling him up so well and it makes him that much harder.

It takes what feels like several minutes before Harry starts to pull out, slowly still, until just the tip is in, and then he shoves back in, all the way, and Niall gasps out. They go on like that, with Harry thrusting into him in slow intervals, in then out, and Niall lies back and takes all of it in.

“You okay?” Harry’s asking, fucking in a bit harder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall replies, spreads his legs even further as he loosens up. Finally relaxes and lets Harry fuck him carefully. “Can go a bit faster.”

He gets a kiss as assent, and Harry pushes into him, and it feels good, really good, but then he stops suddenly.

“Sorry,” Harry’s saying, out of breath, and Niall can feel him throbbing inside. Makes him shiver, as he grinds into him, makes him take it. “It’ll be better, if-”

He’s moving around, takes the pillow beside Niall’s head, and bodily lifts his hips off the mattress, shoving it under his bum. When he fucks in again, Niall moans, louder, thrashes around as his prostate is stimulated, full on. Harry grabs holds of his hands, laces their fingers together and pins them down on the bed, straight out of a movie scene,and tucks his face in Niall’s neck, lets him calm down.

“God, what-”

“You okay?” he asks him quietly, patiently. Holds him close.

Niall considers what to say, the settles with, “I’m okay, pet.”

“Okay, good, good,” he’s mumbling, “it’ll be good, I promise.”

Niall’s chest feels too full then, so he nods, can’t seem to get any words out. Then Harry starts moving again, hitting that angle every time, and Niall just lets out a stream of moans, feeling incredible down to his toes.

Harry fucks him, rolling his hips, and things become a bit blurred then. Enters him again and again and he holds his hands all through out. Doesn’t let go, and he keeps his promise, makes him feel so, so good.

All too soon, the heat builds up in the pit of his stomach, threatening to snap, and he can’t quite hold it in.

“Harry,” he whimpers, grips his hands.

“Okay, okay,” he’s muttering, going faster and harder and rougher, and Niall lets out a sob. Fights against his hold and his hands break free, just to grab on to the wooden bars of the headboard as he’s filled, over and over. Harry snakes one hand down to his cock, hard against his stomach, and pulls him off, barely taking any time before he comes with a shout, spilling over their bodies.

“Oh, wow,” Harry's mumbling, still hard inside him, pulls back slightly to look at him. His face is soft, gentle on him, and a small smile on his lips. “Good for a first time?”

“Amazing,” he breathes out, trembling all over. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, still smiling, sets his head on his chest.

“You’ve not come?”

“Oh, no. It’s okay, let me just-”

He goes to pull out, but Niall grabs on to his hips. Clenches his arse around him, earning him a groan.

“No, come in me,” he tells him. “Need the full experience.”

“Niall.”

“Come on,” he says, pushes his own hips back so Harry goes in a bit deeper. Decides to be dramatic as well, straight out of a romance novel, and tells him, “Just let go.”

Harry gulps at that, and pushes in, lightly, and Niall bites his lips at the sensation. Overwhelmed and over sensitive, but still incredible. Moans at the next thrust, and eventually, Harry does as he's told. Let's go, fucking in in in and making so many noises, and it's just this side of painful, but not enough for Niall to want him to stop. Still feels too good in him, pounding into his fucked out body, chasing his own high.

It's when Niall pulls his face down to kiss him he comes. Whimpers in his mouth and ringing out his orgasm, pushing and pushing into him. Stops, and stays there, on top of him, covering him as he gasps and catches his breath.

“You’re warm,” Niall muses, gathering Harry’s body in his arms and holding him close. Wipes the sweat away from his forehead, kisses his red lips again, and Harry hums against his mouth.

“No. It’s just you,” he replies, allows himself to be held. Nuzzles Niall’s jaw as he curls into his body, and he blinks sleepily. “You’re okay, right?”

“I’m very well,” he replies, pulling up the covers over them, and he finds that he doesn’t want to move, today. Not like they’d had any plans.

.

They go back to the restaurant for supper, the next night. Niall thinks that they’ve spent enough time just holed up in his room. Would be nice to get a really posh dinner in, though no one else had thought the same, evidently. They’re alone in the restaurant, only wait staff standing by or chatting near the back, barely audible, but it’s all quite nice. The snow isn’t as bad, tonight. Falls hard, but slow enough that they can finally see out of the windows. The mountains really are gorgeous, snowcapped and sharp, even in the night sky.

“So I’m sat there, between Rory and Genie, wondering ‘ _why the fuck am I invited?’_ ” he’s saying, a few hours into dinner, slicing up his rack of lamb carefully, giving Harry maybe a third of the entire portion, “And out comes Mayweather. And it’s true, really. How people say he is, real high and mighty and really full of himself. ‘ _God’s gift to sports_ ,’ I think, is how he introduced himself.”

“Nightmare,” Harry’s saying, frowning as he spoons some of his truffle risotto to a small plate to give to Niall.

“Can see why Justin likes him so much, though. Kindred spirits, they are. They’d be very happy together.”

That gets Harry’s chuckling, and he smiles at him, feeling quite light and happy. “Met Pacquiao, a few years back. Complete opposites, the two of them are. He wanted to go karaoke.”

“Did you do it?”

“I did,” Harry says proudly, smugly. “I can now tell to anyone who will listen, I’ve duetted with Manny Pacquiao, ‘We’ve Got Tonight’. It was a great night.”

They both laugh, and as they calm down, Niall says, “The lives we’ve lead, yeah?”

They’re quiet after that, Niall plays around with his food instead of eating it. He can’t quite read the look on Harry’s face, contemplative, thoughtful, silent. All of that is obvious, but he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. That doesn’t happen often, if at all.

“Niall?”

“Yes, pet?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asks, smirking, because Harry’s not done anything wrong these past few days.

“I love you.”

He spoke too soon.

He drops his fork, the clatter it makes on the plate echoing around the room, and the staff who’d been quite relaxed up until that point are suddenly alert. Look over to their table, and Niall can’t look at Harry.

“Um, sorry,” he says, can barely register anything. “I - _shit._ Sorry. Sorry, can we, um. Would you mind leaving us, please?”

The staff stare at them, waiting to see if Niall was actually serious. When he doesn’t budge, they begin to leave, nodding at them as they retreat to the service area, closing the door behind them, and leaving Harry and Niall alone.

His heart is racing, and it’s not the pleasant kind of race. Just beats against his chest too hard and makes it difficult to breathe. “Harry, you _promised_.”

“I know, I know I did,” he says, and he sounds so small, close to tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you say that?” Niall looks at him then, wants answers. “You promised me. I always, _always_ , asked you if we were okay. If you wanted to stop because it was feeling like too much. You promised me you’d tell me, so we wouldn't end up like this. I told you I couldn't let you expect anything, and this, most of all.”

“I didn’t mean to not tell you, Ni,” he says, and he looks up. His eyes are already wet, and Niall is _seething_. “I promise. But if I told you, how I’d really felt. You might’ve not wanted me to stay.”

“So,” he’s murmuring, trying to get his head around it all. “So. You’ve felt that way, the entire time?”

Harry’s silence is very telling. “Oh my _god,_ Haz-”

“I just,” he begins, tries to look for the right words, “I just thought. I’d get whatever I was allowed. I just wanted to be with you, even just like this, even just for the week-”

“No, no, you don’t have any right to talk like that,” Niall’s telling him, and his knuckles are white. “You don’t get to talk like that. Why did you - are you just desperate for more drama? Want everything to revolve around you?”

“Niall-"

“No!” he’s saying, close to screaming. “No, not after the shit you’ve put me through, time and time again. That’s not fair, it’s not fair.”

“What?” Harry says, and he’s looking a little angry, now. Good. Niall would have preferred that anyway. “What’s not fair? I’m the one getting my heart fucked over, right now.”

“And you think I’m not devastated about this?”

“You’re breaking _my_ heart!”

“The end of 2015,” he goes straight to it, wants this over and done with. Won’t survive if he talks about this for too long. “You went to Miami after Christmas. You texted me, told me to come along. Spend New Year’s with you. Things with Selena were still new. She went off to Costa Rica and was waiting for me to join her, and still. I’d been thinking of skipping out on that, to go with you. Be with you, even though I was happy with her. Just because I’d been in love with you since 2011.”

Harry looks dumbfounded, is quiet, until he’s saying, “But. You did go to Costa Rica.”

“I went to Miami first,” Niall says, works to keep the emotion out of his voice. Harry goes dead silent, and his eyes are shining again. “I went to Miami, I followed you there. I’d made my choice. I fucking chose you. But you’d fucked off to Anguilla and St. Barths with _her_ , because I didn’t reply on time, just because I wanted to surprise you. So I went on a last minute trip to Costa Rica, because I’d chosen wrong, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. She loves me, and I had to make a choice. You made your choice. You chose Kendall and that fucking yacht.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry says, voice deathly quiet. “Niall, I didn’t know.”

“If you knew, would that have made a difference?”

“Yes!” he’s saying, voice cracking, and he begins to cry. Lets his tears fall, “It would have. It would have made a difference.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Niall says, and he doesn’t care anymore, if he comes off as cruel. He’d worked his arse off, getting over Harry. Worked so hard to be happy with Selena. Shit, _Selena._ He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t be like this. Wouldn’t fall under Harry’s charm, and yet. “You’re always, _always_ , wrong about me. I should never have agreed to this, there was no reason for me to agree-”

“You’re lying,” Harry’s saying, “I’m not always wrong about you. You know better, you know how much I know you. You and I both know why you agreed to doing this with me.”

Niall blinks rapidly, tries to stave off every stupid tear. “I was just lonely-”

“You talk so much shit,” he says, glares at him with wet eyes. “Fuck you. You know full well that it wasn't just because you were lonely.”

“Yes, it was-”

“Stop it! Don't lie,” he's yelling, shaking his head around, his hair flying about as he cries. “I know you have feelings for me. I know you do.”

“Well, fuck my feelings, then,” Niall's saying. Grits his teeth, breathes deeply through his nose. “It's not like you cared. Just wanted to get to Kendall as soon as you could, yeah? Have the whole bloody world know that you weren't with me, come New Year. Let everyone know just who you snogged, that day.”

“I never loved her,” he's saying, and Niall scoffs. “I never did-”

“Doesn't matter if you did or didn't. I loved you, and you didn't give any shits about that, did you?”

“Why are you being like this!” Harry's sniffing, crying. “Why are you denying everything? Do I mean that little to you?”

“I cheated on the most amazing person I've ever met, with you, Harry!” Niall's saying, and he can't do this anymore. “Four years later and I still end up choosing you. It has taken me ages, _ages,_ to be okay with the choices I’d made in my life. I know it's my fault, that I said yes to you. It's my fault, for giving in. It's my fault for not seeing the signs, early on. It's my fault, for making the misguided choice to do any of this, just because I'd missed you. But why'd you lead me on? Why'd you take advantage of the fact that maybe, _maybe,_ I still had feelings for you? Why would you choose to sleep with me, then?”

“Niall-”

“I'd never felt more used,” he says finally, and a traitorous tear falls from his eyes. Screws them shut so he doesn't have to see the look on Harry's face. “And you know the worst part of it all? I didn't even think of her that much. I've been too busy, feeling like shit because I thought I was pushing you too far or making you feel like _I_ was using _you._ ”

“Nialler-”

He stands up, says in a straight voice, “I think it'd be best if we stayed in our respective rooms from now on.”

“Niall,” Harry's murmuring, sounding very much in tears, and Niall cannot be here for that. Turns, and leaves him sitting there.

When he gets to the elevator, he cries. Doesn't know how to feel, when Harry doesn't follow him.

.

He spends New Year’s Eve holed up in his room. Locks himself in and doesn’t come out, though the snow’s been much better and it looks like it was finally clear enough to be safe for some skiing. He doesn’t want to run the risk of seeing Harry, and evidently, he thinks similarly. Aside from the time he had ordered room service, Niall doesn’t get a knock on his door, and he’s not quite sure if he really prefers it that way.

“Hi, love,” he smiles as soon as she accepts the call. Feels like his chest is being crushed, as she smiles back. It’s bright, where she’s locked herself in to take his call. Bright from a light, and Niall deduces it’s a bathroom, can hear the loud, loud noises of a party raging on beyond the doors. “Meant to check in earlier. Happy New Year.”

“ _Happy New Year_ ,” she grins, and he feels exponentially more awful. “ _You doing okay? I checked a few weather reports, they said the storm should be almost cleared out by now._ ”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it has. Just a gentle flurry, now.”

“ _So you’ve been to the slopes?_ ” she asks him.

“Oh, yeah, have been,” he lies, knows if he tells the truth that he’s been brooding in his room, he’ll have to explain why, and he’d rather lie about this than that. “Almost fell. Never again.”

She laughs, and Niall doesn’t know how to feel about her, anymore. Feels the guilt, the weight of what he’d done, can almost feel her disappointment and her sadness, her betrayal. Feels all the love, for her. But most of all, he feels resignation. The strangest, strangest feeling, and he can’t explain why.

“Why are you still awake?” he shakes himself off, tries to smile. “It’s like, maybe half past four there?”

“ _Oh, you’re keeping up with my timezone?_ ” she says, “ _Yeah, it is. Went to a New Year’s party. They can get pretty wild over here in Bali. Always thought it would so peaceful and quiet, didn’t realize they could get like this, too. What time is it there?_ ”

“Ten thirty,” he tells her, and her face softens considerably. “I’ve invited the entire hotel staff to my room, ordered too much champagne. Going to have my first Italian orgy, it’s going to be great.”

She laughs again, louder and uninhibited. “ _Tell me how that goes. Always had a thing for Europeans._ ”

“As is proper,” Niall says, smiling, and he says, much softer. “You should go get some sleep. Always did fuck up your sleeping pattern, when you stay up too late. You’ll be waking up at three in the afternoon, tomorrow.”

“ _Yeah, alright,_ ” she concedes, sighing as their call comes to an end. “ _I’ll be seeing you._ ”

“I’ll be seeing you,” he echoes. Like routine, same goodbye for the last four years. “So excited to give you your ball of snow.”

“ _A ziplock of water, by the time it gets to me,_ ” she says, smirking. “ _I love you._ ”

“I love you,” he says, and she waves before she disconnects, leaving Niall alone with his thoughts. It becomes too much, in the span of a few seconds, until there’s a knock on his door. Knows who it is immediately.

He debates over opening the door, or staying put, ignoring the knock and trying to keep the rest of this trip free of any drama.

He knocks again, softer, but still the same pattern. And Niall decides, isn’t so cruel to deny him a second time. Never as, and he doesn’t intend to start now.

He walks over to the door, breathes deeply, and opens it, “Good evening, Harry.”

“Hi, Niall,” he replies quietly. He’s cleaned himself up, hair in a bun and he’s wearing a cream turtleneck and tight black jeans, and when Niall looks closer, he sees the shimmery floral pattern on the sweater. Faint, only seen in certain angles when the light hits it just right, and it honestly is something he himself would wear. Harry going subtle, not really a thing that happens often.

“Would you like to come in?” he asks, and Harry nods quietly, walks in awkwardly and Niall closes the door after him. The atmosphere is strange, odd and uncomfortable Niall’s not accustomed to, not with Harry. He doesn’t know what to say, how to act, how to react around him. Turns out he doesn’t know many things.

“How much did you hear, then?” he asks, knows for sure Harry had heard.

“Everything,” he replies softly. “I've been outside for maybe a little less than an hour. Trying to draw up some nerve.”

It's quiet again, and he's starting to regret that he'd opened the door, a little. Isn't used to this kind of interaction, especially not with the person in front of him. But he doesn't want to leave before clearing the air between them. Even if it's difficult.

“I’m sorry,” is what breaks the silence, coming out of Harry’s mouth. Niall looks up, finds Harry already looking at him. “For all the hurt I’ve caused you, for lying. I was only thinking about myself, was being selfish when I asked for this week, with you. Thought I was thinking about what you wanted, as well, but turns out I don't really know what you want. I just assumed. But I don't know you as well as I thought I did, not anymore. I'm sorry.”

Niall stares at him, a little surprised. Feels his chest go tight, his eyes sting with the promise of tears. “I. Um. Thank you, Harry. I wasn't quite expecting this.”

“I've been really horrible to you, these last few years,” he says, “much longer than I thought. I'm sorry for being so insensitive.”

Niall tells himself to calm down, tries to get his head in order, and says in as tender a tone he can manage, “I'm sorry too. For being insensitive to you and for not being perceptive enough. For not realizing you were getting hurt, too.”

There's a pause again, and he feels the tension begin to dissipate, slowly.

“It's too late, isn't it?” Harry asks, and the sadness in his voice is so evident. Cracks and it sounds watery, tearful.

Niall doesn't know what to say, again. So he tells him, “I don't know what to tell you, Harry. I'm sorry.”

“As am I,” he says, and he's still crying. Wiping his face with the back of his hands, sniffing and whimpering.

He comes forward, and because he could never stand the sight of a tearful Styles, he hands him a handkerchief, wipes at his cheeks when Harry doesn't take it.

“Don't cry, it's New Year’s,” he murmurs, tries to comfort him. Holds him close and tries to calm him down. “Don't want to ring in a new year with crying, do you?”

Harry sobs anyway, clutches on to him tightly, and Niall can feel the hold on his heart. Like he’ll always be latched on to this boy, in one way or another, and he holds his own tears back. Feels stupidly in love, at that moment, feels himself fall completely, all over again, and he’s tired of fighting. Tired of denying, but as much as Harry didn’t have a right to do any of this to him, he didn’t have any right to it, either. So he steels himself and prepares himself for the final blow.

“I promised you until I was here,” Niall tells him, presses on his back with his knuckles. Let's him know he's still here. He’ll be here until he can't be anymore. “I don't intend to break that promise.”

Harry holds on tighter. Doesn’t let go. “Nialler.”

“Yours until the moment I leave. I promised,” he murmurs. Harry pulls away, doesn’t look at him.

“Everyone’s going to get hurt,” he says, and he’s completely right. “You don’t need to do this for me anymore, Niall-”

“I know I don’t,” he says. “That’s why I’m doing this for _me._ I’m keeping my promise because I want to.”

“Niall.”

“I think we owe it to ourselves to end this properly, right?” he says. “Then let’s do just that. I said I’d stay, so let me.”

Harry whimpers, and Niall can see him crying silently, tears falling from his eyes and he pulls him close again. It already feels too much like a goodbye.

.

When midnight strikes, they're in Harry's suite. They'd mutually decided that staying in Niall's room wouldn't be the best thing.

His phone alarms as they're sat on the couch, watching the New Year’s Rockin’ Eve from the year before on the television, and Harry sits up from from where he’s been leaning on Niall’s chest, quiet and warm.

“Is that-”

“Yeah,” he says, and Harry’s looking at him. His eyes are still wet, but he looks down at his mouth, and he’s transparent. Niall tells him, “You can kiss me, if you want.”

His eyes flash to look up at him, and he says in a small voice, “It’s okay, we don’t need to.”

“We’ve done much more in the past few days, you can kiss me,” Nialls says, brushes his thumb against his cheek. Just the edge of it, where it’s sharp, not as soft as the rest of Harry’s face.

He looks at Niall again, and comes forward nervously. Presses a chaste kiss on his lips, and Niall responds in kind. Presses his lips against the kiss and deepens it, holds him there.

“Happy New Year, Nialler,” he murmurs, and this isn’t what he pictured how this last few nights would turn out. Knows he can’t expect anything like before; light, happy, teasing, playful. Too late for that now, but he doesn’t want Harry like this.

“Happy New Year, Haz,” he replies, plays with the hair on the back of his head, then pulls him back in for another kiss. Lets Harry graze his lips over his face, every part of him that he can reach. Closes his eyes as another soft kiss finds its way to his jaw. Melts in his arms, one more time.

.

They go, for one last time, this time on Harry’s bed. Opens him up slow and careful and silent, fucks him with his heart right up in his throat. Stares down at Harry the entire time, and Harry stares right back, their lips never far from the other. Just hovers, skimming over skin, sometimes kissing, always close.

His chest feels too tight, like whatever’s in it, it doesn’t belong to his body anymore, can’t be contained within its confines.

When Harry comes undone beneath him, moaning into his mouth and drawing his own high right out of him with the right push, it kills him inside, because it’s become much too clear to him, where it’s gone.

.

He leaves the following afternoon.

He dresses quietly, sat on the edge of the bed, and Harry watches just as silently, naked with the duvet pooled over his body up to his waist.

Niall ties his shoes, ignores the painful sensation his stupid heart is pounding on, and stands up from the bed. Combs through his hair with his fingers and looks at him, tries to control his emotions.

“I’ll be leaving, then,” he says, voice barely audible, but the room is quiet. He knows he’s heard, loud and clear. “Need to pack, and. Everything.”

Harry gives a small nod to show he understands. His hands are clenched around the duvet cover, tight and unyielding.

“Harry,” he comes forward, and takes his face in his hands. Decides to give in one more time, and kisses him softly, just the gentlest touch of his lips on Harry’s, but he makes it count. Makes it linger, lets him feel it.

Harry cranes his neck up to follow his mouth, and his heart swells. Allows him to cup his face and reel him back in again, and he doesn’t do much more than just kiss him. Over and over, until he can feel him tremble against him, just the slightest shiver that gives him away.

“Take care of yourself, Haz,” he tells him, pulling away.

Harry’s quiet again, then he’s saying, “I hope she treats you well. I hope she loves you, more than I love you.”

Niall pauses, has to, takes a deep breath to collect himself. “Find someone you love, more than you love me.”

“They don’t exist,” is Harry’s reply, quiet and genuine, before he looks away and curls back into bed. Doesn’t respond when Niall says his name, and he takes that as his leave, chest tight with everything he didn’t say.

.

He’s back in London, before he knows it. The trip back was a blur, and he couldn’t take any of it in properly, can’t stop thinking about the boy he left behind.

He drops his bags in his room, decides to unpack later and he looks around his house. Feels how empty it is, how lonely he is, and how unhappy he is, really. Realizes he has been all those things, for a long time, longer than he’d like to admit.

.

He picks Selena up from the airport, a few days later. She’s alone, having been the only one from the girls to fly to London, everyone else to either Los Angeles or to New York. She’d wanted to see him too much, she had told him. He smiles at her as she runs toward him, her luggage rolling behind her and seeing her smile has always made him happy, somewhat. Now it just makes him feel guilt.

She jumps into his open arms, laughing as she’s caught, and he embraces her, pulls her close to him, and breathes. Breathes her in, takes it all in. As much as he loves her, as much as he’s tried. She doesn’t feel like home, she never has, but he tries to save face. Leans down and kisses her gently, and he sees some people staring. Tries not to let it get to him, tries to do this for her,because he’d never been one to be so public.

“Look what I got you,” she says, beaming as she pulls away from him, just slightly, and it really is so like her, to just be so excited that she wouldn’t even wait until they’d gotten to the car. She brings out her phone, and looks for something on it. “Here!” she’s saying, and showing him a video, of an elephant, large and grey and incredibly adorable, funnily enough. Niall thinks it’s almost smiling, based on the way it’s mouth moves. He can hear her in the clip, can hear her beckoning to the elephant, _“Hey, Nyai! Can you please greet Niall for me? Please?”_ To which the elephant lifts up her trunk, and flaps her ears, and Selena’s laughing and squealing, in both the video and right next to him, pleased and happy. He’s quite sure that it just means that it’s angry, for some reason, but he smiles all the same. Kisses the top of her head.

“Got you something too,” he tells her, before bringing out a plastic from inside his jacket, inside of which is a ziplock bag within another ziplock bag. “Water. It was snow, from the Dolomites, but you said this would do, so-”

She laughs again, and pulls his down for another kiss. It doesn’t quite comfort him, as he had hoped.

.

Niall tries to go about his everyday. Tries to be normal, tries to be routine. Tries to come back to this life, the one he’s known for so long, but it's much more difficult than he had thought it would be.

He makes more music. He visits his family in Ireland, like he had promised. Selena couldn't come because of work, had to do some last minute reshoots for some movie she had been doing with Zac Efron and Seth Rogen, but he's thankful for it, almost. Allows him to think and breathe, know where he stands with himself, at least a little more.

It takes a week before he breaks down and tells her everything. It happens when they’re finally taking down the decorations from the holidays, both of them having been so preoccupied that they could only do it now, together. It’s when she’s coiling the Christmas lights carefully, trying to avoid knotting the wires, talking about Gigi and Cara and something about their experiences with the local food back in Indonesia, that he finally brings it up. Cannot hide the truth anymore, from her, from himself.

“Sel, I’m sorry. Something happened, when I was in Italy.”

She stills, stops talking and pauses her coiling. She looks at him, then looks down at the table, asks him quietly, “Does this have anything to do with Harry?”

He freezes, and snaps his head up to look at her properly. He can see the betrayal already on her face, and he feels awful. “How did you know-”

“Kendall was in Bali,” she says, and her voice is still steady, but just on the edge of it. Already sounds close to tears. “You know I’ve never been all that close to her, and when things happened with her and Justin, I just. Cut off any communication.”

He nods, understanding. He knows all of this, but he knows it helps her explain, when she recounts it, no matter how painful.

“But then you came along and I was okay, getting okay, even when I saw how hurt you were when she and him happened,” she says, and she chuckles sadly at the look of shock on his face. “I’ve always known, you were a week late to Costa Rica. How could I not know. It didn’t matter; in the end, you chose me, and that was that. But Kendall, she and Taylor became friends. Not close, but friendly enough that Taylor insisted that I invite her, so I did, because it’s her birthday gift. I initially thought she wouldn’t be able to, thought she maybe might go to some beach and get back with Harry and get papped making out with him again, as she does every year. Sorry,” she apologizes at the wince on his face, and he tries to wave her off, but he can’t hide.

“But-”

“She asked me, why I wasn’t spending the holidays with you,” she continues, puts down the lights in her hand. It’s shaking, slightly, barely perceptible, but Niall knows her well. “It was just small talk, we were trying to make an effort. Be mature, and everything. I was confused, because how did she know about that? Then she explains. She said that she was supposed to go with Harry, he’d asked her a few months ago when they were still together, but they broke up not long after. Said she felt bad, and didn’t want him to go alone, so she tried asking him if he still wanted company, but she never got a call back or message or anything. Then she found out from one of Nick’s friends that Gemma had talked to, that Harry was going alone, just found out that you were going to the same place, probably from when you had tried to ask him if he wanted your extra ticket. He was going to surprise you.”

Niall doesn’t speak. Can’t find himself to, in any case. So, he asks a stupid question, instead, because he’s been harboring ill feelings towards this girl for years, maybe unrightly so, knows deeper that the feelings are misplaced, and should be directed towards Harry instead. But he wants to know.

“Why would she ask him if he needed company, though?” he says, “If he broke up with her, shouldn’t that have been enough of a sign that he didn’t want to be with her?”

Selena laughs at him, like he’d expected her to. He’s just too predictable.

“Niall,” she says once she stops laughing, still sounding breathy from her laughing. “ _She_ ended it with him. For good.”

Now he really can’t quite believe it. Just shuts up and tries to think, but there are too many thoughts in his head that he can’t quite consolidate.

“She said that she knew that she was never that important to him,” she explains. “She said she knew, that he was just using her. She thought he might outgrow it and learn to love her, for real. But he never did, and she got fed up with it, when beach trip after beach trip and yacht after yacht didn’t go much further than that. She told him to fuck off. They haven’t seen each other in months.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all. Stares at his hands instead where his knuckles have turned white. Feels like he’d made the wrong choice.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he says quietly, “that you knew he was there?”

She sighs, her breath coming out shaky and tired, and she begins speaking in an exhausted tone. “I had hoped. Stupidly, now that I think about it, but I was hoping, that maybe the two of you wouldn’t hang out. Maybe you’d be the one to tell me, and give me some sort of hope that it’s not a big deal. That you just saw each other.”

They’re both quiet, for a while. Then, she asks him, “What did you do with him?”

“Sel-”

“No,” she says, her face hardening, looking much older than she really is. A rarity. “I need to know. How far did it go?”

He silences himself, and can’t come up with an answer that won’t hurt her. His face crumples when he comes up short, but when he looks up to watch her, the look on her face suggests that she already knows it’s going to be painful.

“A lot further than I’d want to admit to you.”

“You slept together?”

“Several times,” he swallows, feels his chest ache as she closes her eyes, her reserve breaking and the tears beginning to fall.

“You told him you loved him?”

“Not outrightly,” he says, but it’s bullshit. “He told me he loved me.”

“Well, fuck,” she says, laughing humorlessly, the sound coming off wet. “I really don’t have any chance, now.”

“Selena-”

“I had a feeling, you know. That this might happen one day, always in the back of my mind and I was hoping, _hoping,_ but I guess that’s not the way my life works,” she says. “I had a feeling, but still. I never prepared myself, for when it would actually happen. Always hoped it would be an ‘ _if_ ’.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he knows it’s not enough. Can’t say anything when she stands up, wiping her tears off her face, trying to look collected and put together but he knows he’s just devastated her. Ruined her world.

“I need to go. I can’t be here,” she says, her voice no longer steady, but she’s still trying. Steps away from the table, and she’s saying, “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff soon, but right now, I can’t look at you.”

He cries then, feeling awful and this is his fault. This is also Harry’s fault, but he can’t blame him if he doesn’t blame himself too. He did this to her, he was the one who had someone waiting for him here. This was his doing.

“Niall,” she’s says, turning back to look at him. “You were the best person I’d ever been with. I’d like to think you really did love me.”

“I do, I still do,” he says, and it’s not a lie.

“But not in the way you love him,” she corrects him. It’s the truth.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, voice hard. Then, she takes a deep breath, sighs, and tells him, “If Harry really is worth it, then you’d better make it count.”

She leaves him, closes the door behind her, and Niall feels like everything’s crashing down on him, and like a weight’s been lifted, all at the same time. It’s a confusing, wretched feeling, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he does what he can now. Puts down the lights he’d been holding, and cries silently into his hands. Hopes he feels better after it all, so he can deal with all of this with a clearer head.

...

February, a few days before Valentines.

It’s taken him over a month, but. He’s finally at peace with himself, at terms with the choices he’d made and the consequences of his actions. He finally knows what to do, hopes it’s not too late. It’s dramatic, cheesy, stupid and pretentious, but. Maybe that’s what they need. Maybe he needs to do the declaring, this time. He needs to be the brave one and do something about it. Something out of routine.

Flies to Cheshire, where it’s probably 5-6 degrees. It’s punishing, but it’s not like he’s not used to it. Wonders how Harry must be in the weather, knows how much he likes his sun and warmth, but he’d asked Grimmy. Said Harry was planning to spend a few months at home, away from the messy world where all his exes liked to roam about and talk about him. Probably wasn’t counting on Niall to follow him, all the way here.

.

The doorbell rings, once, twice. Then he hears Harry yelling inside, says he’ll get it, and Niall’s heart starts going into overdrive. Feels like he’s about to jump right out of his skin.

The door opens, and Harry’s smile is wiped from his face as soon as he sees him. Is replaced by a look of pure shock, instead.

“Harry!” he hears Anne yell from somewhere within the house. “Who is it?”

Niall waves at him, smiles softly, then shows him the first cue card, right out of Mark’s book.

‘ _Tell them it’s Niall, being a dramatic twat.’_

Harry snaps his head to look back up at him, once he’s done reading it. Searches on his face any shred of a joke, that this is just something Niall’s doing for fun, or something. When he finds none, he yells back to his mother, “It’s Niall. He said he’s being a dramatic twat.”

“Well, tell him to watch his language,” she says, not sounding all that surprised. Niall doubts that she is, and shows Harry his next card.

‘ _I know how much you love this part. So this is me gathering my courage, and declaring, this time. You’ve had your turn.’_

Harry watches him, and Niall finds several things on his face. A little confusion, a bit of joy, a bit of apprehension. Finds love, most of all. It warms him enough to continue.

‘ _Sel and me. We’re done. Have been for a while.’_

Harry looks up, but Niall shakes his head. Moves on to the next card.

‘ _Not because of you, totally. Because I made a mistake, and I had to deal with it.’_

He switches on to the next card quickly, before he loses his courage, before Harry looks at him any differently.

‘ _My mistake was thinking that I could ever not love you. I know now how wrong that is.’_

He watches as Harry sucks in a breath, watches as he closes his eyes, failing to prevent tears from falling. Watches his chest heave in and out as he whimpers, biting his lips to calm himself, and to not allow the noises leave his mouth.

‘ _I’m still hurt, by everything you’ve done to me. I know you’re still hurt, by what I’ve said to you.’_

_‘I know it's been some time since we last saw each other. You most probably feel completely different about me now.’_

Harry's shaking his head already, but Niall smiles still, holds up a finger with difficulty as his two hands are holding the stack of heavy, large cards.

‘ _But I love you still. Will still love you, until we’re so old we can't even fuck around onstage anymore.’_

He laughs at that, even though it's not particularly funny. Niall wants to think it's just because he thinks the same way, as well.

‘ _I w_ _ant to try, if I'd be allowed.’_

_‘But, if not, then I'd like you to know.’_

_‘I will always be the Keith to your Mick.’_

Harry's still crying silently at this point, and Niall is close to it as well, as he watches him absorb everything. Come to terms what he's thought about so much, this past month. These past few years, if truth be told.

_‘The Niall to your Harry.’_

He cries, lets out a sob, and wipes at his cheeks with the heel of his hand. Niall feels like it's a bit of a confirmation.

‘ _And I love you.’_

Harry says it back, echoes it to him as he smiles through his tears, and Niall finally feels centered again. Off routine and not on his usual path, but maybe his path wasn't ever meant to be usual, in the first place.

‘ _Happy Valentine’s Eve-Eve.’_

Harry laughs at the last card, and it comes out wet and the sound is beautiful, in Niall's ears. Beams at him, then puts the cards down to give him a thumbs up, supposedly, but Harry's coming forward to hug him. Holds him in his arms and kisses him soundly, and Niall sighs into it. Hasn’t been kissed in over a month, hasn’t been kissed by Harry by just a few days longer. But he’s the one that matters, anyway. Feels too long, since he’s been held by him.

His lips are soft on Niall’s, tender and gentle, moving slowly against his mouth and it feels like home, more and more with each kiss.

He _was_ worth it, then. So he’s making it count.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'So Close', from Enchanted.


End file.
